Leaves Falling in a Quiet Place

by R J Darby

  “We will be awake then,” Rowan said, finding this chat to be not very useful at all. With his hopes dashed, he looked at the council member the way he would a morsel of food left on a plate when he was starving, needing to be given extra.

  “You must change rooms with someone else within your group.”

  “And have them received the invitation? What kind of game is this?” The temperature of his blood was rising, and it showed by the mottled red which spread itself across his chest and face, flaming at his ears.

  “A most deadly one.” Erin doused his flames.

  Naimh licked her lips. “Do you mean to say that when we are to be woken up for this message, that we won't be able to wait ever again?”

  “I fear it, though I have no solid evidence. Exchange places with one of your kin if you have any desire to survive and avenge your children. I must go. We have already talked too long.”

  She disappeared like a vapor, leaving the two with only more questions. There seemed to be no choice then but to tell the others at the meeting.

  It was decided between them that none of them would die. A trick had to be played instead. Thankfully they were experts in that field. It was decided that they would stuff the beds with bags of wheat. So that they did not get caught, Rowan and Niamh would stay in the closet in Jeremiah's room until the old man had settled in. They suspected that the rooms would be watched until they were all asleep.

  Jeremiah took a place at the communal dinner table to keep the eyes of the guards who were supposed to watch his room on him, while Rowan and Niamh slipped away to their hiding spot.

  They waited and waited with time-traveling by even slower than it did in The Quiet Place. Not being able to talk to each other meant that they only had their bittersweet memories for company. It was not a pleasant companion, to say the least.

  Somewhere between getting out of a room and waiting for Jeremiah to finish his 'last' drink, of which he always had at least four, they fell asleep, snuggled in the bottom of the closet in a space that would be uncomfortable to anyone other than a leprechaun.

  Rowan woke first, as usual, squinting at light hit him in the eyes. He yawned, gave a stretch and then snapped upwards.

  “Naimh! Naimh!" He shook her shoulder fiercely until she too came around.

  Their slumber had been a good one as they had dreamt of their family reunited and vengeance of some sort on the dreadful gorta and their ring leader Caoranach. When they awoke, however, they felt as if they have been in a dream where they were falling - and that they had just plummeted right into the ground.

  “Daylight!” She gasped. “Jeremiah did not wake us up.”

  “I'm not sure that Jeremiah came back at all.”

  With a creak, the closet door was thrust open. It's banging against the wall woke up many of the other guests who would like to complain about tiny footsteps running past their doors at ungodly hours.

  Rowan and Naimh came to the door of a room but should have been theirs and let themselves in. Rowan grasped Naimh over the mouth before she could let out a squeal. There, in his own blood, was Jeremiah.

  Releasing her slowly, Rowan sealed the door behind them.

  “That tool! That darn tool!" He said. “He should have gone along with the plan. Why would he sacrifice himself like this? Why?”

  Naimh stroked the hair of the old man and closed his eyes. “He knew that they would know the feel of the body. And look at this.” The piece of paper on the side read, “gone for a walk. Naimh” in a handwriting that was not hers.

  “I suppose that we all want to know that we played our part...” Rowan sighed. “He was a very good man, and at least now he can be reunited with his family even if it wasn't in the place he had intended it to be.”

  With tears bristling within her lashes and stinging like sea salt in the already open wounds, Naimh asked, “What do we do now?”

  “I think we go to the meeting. There's a waterfall underneath this window. If we drop him out and so that we decided to swap rooms to give his elderly bones a better rest in the double bed, we might just get away with missing or execution.” It seems like a terrible thing to do, but it was the only plan which they could come up with.

  “And then we go to the council meeting, saying that he passed along the message, and Erin nor we will be in trouble.”

  Letting the old man fall from the window into the flowing tide pulled at both of them. They did not know him well, but as he fell, splashed and tumbled along with the tide, it was as though there were strings of a puppeteer yanking at them, between their chests and the lifeless man in the water.

  “At list, the tide will take him far away from here.”

  After discarding the bloody bedding in the same manner, they left the room.

  Chapter Seven

  A meeting

  The council were talking away and pouring wine when the two leprechauns entered the room. A hush weaved its way through like a spider web catching all of the flies on the council, except of course for Erin, who lifted her glass to her lips to hide a smile.

  “I see that you've got our invitation?” She greeted them in a pleasant tone. “Please, do come and pour yourself a drink and cut yourselves a loaf of bread. We got jam in especially after hearing that you're were a lover of sweet things.”

  “And what sweet things you were to do so,” Naimh said as both of them sat down. It was the first thing that they had managed to eat since the disaster, and although they could tell the taste was one which should have been delightful, it filled their stomachs very quickly, clogging and making them not want to eat anymore. They were already too full with the negative experiences of the past couple of days.

  “How did you sleep?” Caradine asked though it was clear that he did not care much about the answer. His face was pulled tight as old leather, and although he was ravishingly handsome, as all fairies are, it gave him an ugliness that began to match his insides.

  “Very well, thank you,” said Naimh shortly followed by her husband.

  “I would like very much to try one of the other rooms one night. Jeremiah said that he had a particularly comfortable experience taking a nap on our bed, so, unfortunately, we had to exchange rooms. That's what you do for me old and needy though, isn't it?”

  The look on Caradine's face was held so tight in a grimace that if he had gripped his teeth together any harder, Rowan was sure that his pointed jaw might crack. This image he found to be even sweeter than the jam. Caradine did not have another bite after that. Not one.

  When the time time for talking, the plates were cleared away, but the wine was left, as was customary. None of the kingdoms within Tír na nÓg same that had a council that could focus without some sort of berry flavored pleasure.

  “I believe it is best that we start with the matter at hand; afterwards we will discuss problems we have been having with trade and the taxes," Caradine said as formally as he could. Irritation emanated from him like a seeping vapor of noxious gas. This was not how he had been expecting things to go. Clearly, the initial suspicion of the two leprechauns, as well as that of his fellow Council member, had been correct. He continued.

  “I think there is nothing to be done as you have seen, the gortas have laid waste to everything, that they have touched. Bigger kingdoms than ours have suffered. The numbers have been great. And more importantly, for us, this has put a strain on our own resources."

  Rowan put his drink down with a clatter, causing all eyes to turn towards him and a few members to jump. “I don't know how you can say that this is a more important matter. People have been losing people! Deeply important people! Whether or not you believe, each loss is important to each man or woman. You cannot go around saying that the needs of the kingdom are greater than those of the citizens.”

  “I think that you will find that the citizens are the Kingdom, and therefore the Kingdom is the citizen. It just happens to be the most important thing when it comes to surviv
al.”

  Naimh bid her husband lower his voice. “If I may speak freely, I think what my husband is trying to say - although clouded by his passion and struggling to find words, is that all loss is a great one and that although we understand your position, perhaps you should understand the position of your people and credit them with a little more sympathy when discussing the matter.”

  From the corner, their ally nodded and gave a small clap, which was copied by almost half of the room.

  “Yes, well, you know full well what we are discussing here. You are not members of the council, and so you would not be able to truly comprehend the level of our concerns. From now on, consider that we bear the people in mind - our people.” As any great politician does, he seemed to have an answer for everything; an answer which served only his purpose.

  The council went on to review the information they have been given, which wasn't much more than Erin had relayed to them the evening before. Of course, the small detail of the potential assassination of the two leprechauns were left out, but neither of them were going to bring that up. It was reiterated that Caoranach might be responsible, and the distance between the Kingdom and his lake abode was discussed at length. An elderly man, with as much hair on the side of his head as in his beard, and with none on top, noted that it would be fastest on horseback.

  “I do not know why you bring up some things, Darius,” Caradine waved a dismissive hand in the air; his long fingers looking like the knobby bits in branches of particularly ugly trees - ones which were only fit for firewood.

  “Why, our legions must be rallied.” The old man replied.

  A few members of the council, notably those who sat at the stretch of the table which belongs to Caradine, groaned as though the old man had said something rather stupid.

  The heat that had been bubbling in every blood cell of Rowan's body began to boil. It created steam, expanding his chest until it forced its way out of his mouth in a furious blast.

  “Why, you don't mean to say that you won't be going after these attackers? People are dying! Damn Pooka!”

  “Desist!" Erin got to her feet with a scrape of a chair. “I will not have you address a council member in that disrespectful manner. Please remember that you are only a guest within our Kingdom.” Both Rowan and Naimh could tell that she said this because she had to. It was done out of duty, rather than out of disagreement. Still, it did nothing but expand the wound of their sorrows, particularly as Caradine curled his lips in the slimiest way possible that only the most dangerous of creatures could do. For a moment, Naimh found herself considering that perhaps this was how the great serpent Caoranach would smile. She did not wish to be too dismissive of the Pooka race, but she did wonder if they were descendants of hers. They were notoriously feared throughout Ireland, after all. And if Caradine was a fair example, then she could see that perhaps they leaned more on the side of a demon than a fairy.

  Caradine’s voice turned to caramel, but it was sickly sweet and as false as a human. “I thank you, my lady, but I do not mind. I know why these poor creatures have come to our walls, and for that, they have my condolences. So for that, I understand the anger, and I forgive it.”

  This time it was Rowan who had to place a steadying hand on his wife, as she had been about to rise on one of the most fearsome creatures in the entire world - an angry mother with the need to protect. “Yet, I hope that you too can take a moment to think about my position. I have many here to protect, and they are my priority.”

  Another noblewoman offered a suggestion, “perhaps you could summon up a band of those who have come to our Kingdom looking for help. Maybe they can be your army, where we cannot.” This one, at least seemed to be trying.

  Rowan bit down on his lips so hard that a patch of white grew across, it has the blood moved away from the inflicting tooth. Angered still, but still bubbling very near the surface, the male leprechaun spoke again. “Forgive my lady and other members of the council, but I do not understand the ways of your country. But I do understand the ways of battle. Many humans that I have had cause to grant a wish to have been in such things as wars. It is because of this, but I understand a little of battle. For that reason, I must inform you that this would not be enough people to have defended my own Quiet Place, let alone fight off a congregation of gorta.”

  There was a longing in the eyes of both Erin and noblewoman who had just spoken. It was clear that they wanted to do more, but clearer still, there was nothing in which they could do. The older fae that had wanted to rally forces had seemed likely to be on their side too, but he was weary, and too much wine had pushed him to a mid-morning sleep; still with one hand around his cup and his mouth gaping like it was expecting another drink.

  That left the discussion to fall back into the hands of the only man in the room whom it seemed quite clear should not be in control. Caradine performed all of the actions of a leader, but a Kingdom was only such a thing as long as it had a king. She pondered on this a little longer, name two what the incongruous eel had to offer.

  “I am very grateful that you have brought your experiences in battle to our notice.” There was a plunk in the stomach of the male leprechaun. The tone curled its way around the room like smoke. Although beautiful on the surface, it was something that could choke a man and hide the true sight behind it.

  “Thank you.” He nodded, not knowing what to reply. He did not need to be a banshee to know that this particular battle was about to be won, and he was not going to be the one victorious. Caradine was a spider, and now he too was going to be caught in his web.

  “As you have such a determination to protect people, and such relevant skills as in battle, I would ask you on behalf of the council, that you might be our ally.”

  Not a single person believed that this statement was without ulterior motive. Perhaps that was because they had come to know Caradine so well.

  Erin added her piece. “An alliance would very well be a safety measure; however I believe our guests feel that the best offensive strategy is a strong defense.”

  “I would usually agree, but as we know that our numbers are already stretched, what could we really do? As this leprechaun has so dutifully pointed out, many more numbers are needed. I suggest that we take it to a vote. As is the correct policy within a land of diplomacy.” Erin covers a small snort by drinking from her cup. Whoever had imagined that Caradine and diplomacy would be mentioned within the same sentence? Certainly not she. And judging by the looks on the faces of some of the others, not the majority of the council either.

  The old man grumbled himself awake for a minute and said, “I quite agree. What would be the best way to go to have a vote.”

  Naimh had a vision of failure - and it had nothing to do with her powers.

  “I place my vote with staying within the walls of the Kingdom and defending our people within our own walls.” Caradine held one hand high up and the other across his chest, over the place where his heart should have been. This act of cowardice, thinly veiled in patriotism, was weak at best. Although sadly, he did have a point, and it was the Kingdom of these fairies...

  Of course, the leprechauns placed their votes elsewhere.

  It was not to be so, however. The majority of the council, whether this was because of the actual beliefs or over blackmail that Caradine held over them, agreed that they should stay within the walls.

  Much to their disappointment, Erin also agreed. And with that proportion of the meeting which they were allowed to be privy to was over and they were forced to return to their place of sleep. They took Jeremiah’s true room. Too much death had been seen over the past few days to have any chance of them sleeping in a room where it was so fresh.

  “I don't know what we are supposed to do now!” Rowan banged a fist on the table as they got back to the room. A supper of fish and bread have been lined up for them and had either of them trusted Caradine not to have them poisoned, they might have enjoyed it.

&n
bsp; “I don't know, but we have to do something. I refuse to believe that our children were lost for no reason whatsoever. We are sacred beings, given the power to make good on wishes. There has to be something more in line with our destiny, which we can do.”

  Rowan knew the look on Naimh's face well. His mood lifted as if he had just been given a hefty pot of gold.

  “Do you have an idea?”

  “I would not call it so much of an idea: A suicide mission, maybe. But to be completely honest with you, I don't see any other option presenting itself, and even if it tried to, I think that Caradine would wrestle it back into the ground as soon as it's all be daylight.”

  “Get on with it then.” said her eager husband, as though there was a rush. He treated her as though she were a dying woman about to spit out the name of her assailant. Luckily for him, his wife understood his nature; and the impatient childishness of it that's so often struck him (as she believed it to do with all-male leprechauns. For some reason, they never seem to truly grow up; and she was not referring to his height).

  “I think that we should play him at his own game.”

  “I don't understand.”

  “I think that the best course of action is to let him think that we are going to do exactly what he says to. We should report Jeremiah's death - no! The fact that he is missing. We don't want to encourage any suspicion here.”

  Rowan, what about putting on a face through several letters 'V's on his forehead.

  “I don't see what good that will do.”

  “Do I need to explain everything to you? My word, I am starting a hope, but I am not with child because then I would have infants to look after and explain the ways of the world to.” Her playful chiding had one of the wrinkles on the folding, but not all of them.

  “I don't get it.”

  Naimh let out a huff, disguised as a long breath. She was trying very hard to keep her patience.