“MacRannell?” Siobhan asked, her eyes wide.

  “That’s my name as well,” said the woman, her face deadpan.

  Siobhan sighed and looked at Donal. “Hai, that’s his daughter.”

  The stranger looked at Sorcha with a furrowed brow.

  “If you’d let me finish, Maura,” Sorcha said. “These people are friends of your father. They’ve come from the mortal world to find your mother.”

  Maura MacRannell raised both hands and backed away from the crowd. “If you gave me a hundred guesses as to why you came, Sorcha, you’d have to give me a hundred more to come up with that. Now tell me why they’re really here.”

  Siobhan’s shoulders sagged. “We—”

  “—I know how this must sound,” Donal said. “If you’ll listen to us, you’ll find we’re serious.”

  Maura sized up Donal for the first time and observed the manner in which Caitlín crowded him. Her eyes narrowed. “Nothing serious about a lad playing warrior when none are called for.” She stepped up to Donal and grabbed the sleeve of his hauberk. “Little wonder why my cousin is following you, wearing this shiny thing and jingling all over the place.”

  Sorcha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maura…”

  “Did I tell a lie?” Maura asked.

  “You certainly did,” Donal said. He flipped his spear upside down, stuck it in the dirt and pointed at Maura with his newly-freed hand. “You have no idea what we’ve fought to reach this place and what we’ve risked by steppin’ foot in it. And who gave you the right to be talking to your cousin like that?”

  Maura pinched Donal’s cheek. “You really are new,” she said. “Too innocent for this place.”

  Donal swatted at her hand. She caught his hand with hers instead.

  She’s embarrassing you in front of the town, Shadow said from the back of his mind. In front of your friends and Caitlín.

  Maura ratcheted her grip and flared her nostrils. Donal engaged with her. Only when their hands fused into a mass of ten bloodless knuckles did Sorcha step in and force a draw—the prospect of which angered Maura more than Donal.

  “Child, what is wrong?” Sorcha said. She dipped her head into Maura’s eyeline. “When’s the last time you heard from your mother?”

  Maura panted twice and squeezed her face in such a grimace that her torso leaned to the side. She rubbed her face and pointed an open hand toward her aunt and cousin.

  “I’m sorry, Sorcha. And Cait. This isn’t something you spring on someone like it’s a social call, invoking both my mother and my father like that.”

  “Is there anywhere we can talk where no one can earwig us?” Sorcha asked. “Not even your neighbors?”

  Maura nodded. “Let’s go to the Cnócoill. Fresh air on the riverbank might do us some good.”

  Brendan looked around the green. “Fresh air,” he muttered to Ciara. “Won’t that be a nice change?” He grunted from the elbow Brigid delivered to his ribs.

  “Thank you, Maura and Sorcha,” Siobhan said. “Please lead the way.”

  As the three locals walked toward the far side of the green, Siobhan turned and stopped all four of her comrades. “I know it’s been nearly a full day since we’ve been in mortal danger, but could you all stop acting like pure buck eejits long enough for us to get the information we need?”

  “Oi!” Ciara said.

  “You’re right,” Siobhan said. She pointed at Donal and the twins. “You three. Ciara’s the one setting the example right now. Nothing more needs to be said.” She turned and hastened after the three ladies.

  The group crossed four side streets before they reached the fields bordering River Cnócoill. Mounds of dirt carried down from the dry hills in the north split the currents enough to cause small bits of foam in several spots.

  “Here’s fine,” Sorcha said, gesturing for them to sit.

  Maura looked at the group. “Too many.” She pointed at Siobhan and Brendan. “You two.” She narrowed her eyes at Donal. “You. You defended my cousin. You can come as long as you don’t talk too much.”

  Donal looked at Siobhan and back towards Maura. “I defended her from you,” he said, squinting his eyes and twisting his head.

  “That’s almost too much talking already,” she said.

  The condensed group formed a standing circle with Sorcha and Caitlín.

  “It’s a quiet life here, and you all are on the verge of flipping it upside down,” Maura said. “I need to be the one asking questions. I need the answer to come from only the person I ask, and I need my person to stick to the question without digressing. At least until I better understand this mess.”

  Donal wanted to bristle at Maura’s tone and tactics but he couldn’t. I’m going to have to remember that for when things get spun up, he thought.

  “Why did you come here?” Maura asked Siobhan.

  “We need to find the two Treasures still here in the Otherworld.”

  “How do you know they’re still here?”

  “Your mam told us.”

  “You talked to her?”

  “I did not. She told a family friend.”

  “Whose family?”

  “Mine,” Siobhan said. She pointed to Donal. “His, too.”

  “How could he possibly talk to Mam?” Maura asked. Donal couldn’t help but notice how closely her voice emulated the river flowing past them.

  “He discovered a way to create a portal between my world and yours and spoke to her through that.”

  “And that’s how you came here.”

  “If only,” Siobhan said. “They don’t work like that back home—not on our plane, anyway. We had to cross into another plane before we could come here.”

  Maura pointed at Brendan. “Do you know my Mam or Da?”

  “I do not,” Brendan said. “A common friend recruited myself, my sister and her partner to help them.”

  “Where is this friend?”

  “Monsters attacked us before we could reach the portal that led here, separating us in the confusion. We believe they made it through another portal.”

  “What makes you believe that?”

  “Experience,” Brendan said. “I performed some scrying.”

  “And you trust it?”

  “In the spirit of honesty, I’ll tell you this,” he said. “Normally I’d put full faith in my skills, but I tried it again once we crossed over. It said our friends were east of here even though we are certain the portal they entered took them to another world entirely.”

  Maura smiled for the first time since embracing her aunt on the green. “I’m happy to tell you that your ‘skills’ are bang on. They are in one of two places: Tech Duinn or Tír fo Thuinn. If you’re certain they survived, then they’re not in Tech Duinn.”

  “That’s fantastic!” Siobhan said.

  “Don’t get too excited; Tír fo Thuinn is still a wide land,” Maura said. “And I didn’t ask you.”

  Siobhan sighed and ran a hand from her forehead over the crown of her head.

  “But I appreciate your patience. This really helps me and I’m almost done.” She pointed at Donal. “And thank you for being quiet. Tell me about your missing friends. Names and skills.”

  “Maeve is a savage hunter and tracker. Fergal is a sound man, as immovable and unflappable as a mountain. My brother, Finn, is a brilliant bard, maybe the smartest man I know—and I’ll clatter you if you tell him I said that. And…”

  “And?”

  Donal looked at Siobhan. She pointed back at him with her chin.

  “Your da.”

  Maura backed away from Donal’s side of the circle.

  Sorcha rested her hands on Maura’s shoulders.

  “He’s here?” Maura whispered.

  “Somewhere,” Siobhan said. She raised her eyes to the sky, wincing at the size and brilliance of the otherworldly sun, and pointed east. “That way.”

  “We’re going after him,” Maura said. “Now.”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “Are you the one meant to teach us?” Finn asked.

  The old man rotated on his crate and flashed a sneering grin. “I’m the one that’s meant to try,” he said, laughing himself into a cough.

  Maeve folded her arms and shifted her weight to the back foot. “What does that mean?”

  He pulled on his bushy white beard as he considered her. The lids over his brown eyes narrowed to slits as the sides of his mouth lowered. “It means we don’t have use for magic in this world,” óengus said. “It’s all around us. That means there aren’t many here who could teach it.”

  “And you’re one?” Maeve asked. “What are the odds?”

  óengus shook his head. “Too high for you, in fact. I have no magic to me; I simply watched enough of the lessons given by one who did before the Dearg Due got to him.”

  Finn’s eyes drifted upward as he sighed. He had trained enough with Siobhan and Niall to become a respectable swordsman. If they had any chance of succeeding in their mission, however, they’d need his filí magic, not his steel.

  “I saw that,” Rory said to Finn. “Our man here may not have the magic in him, but he also understates his ability. I’ve never seen him fail a student before.”

  I can work with that, Finn thought.

  Maeve narrowed her eyes. “How many students has he taught?”

  Rory alternated between bobbing and shaking their head. “Sure look,” they said, pinching their face, “there’s been at least four people.”

  Maeve squared on Rory and óengus. “Four?”

  The pair averted their eyes.

  “And?” Maeve asked.

  “And nothing!” Rory said. “It was just one wee burn during training. Hardly worth mentioning.”

  Maeve scoffed. “How does someone get scorched during lessons? Are you going to burn my man here?”

  óengus examined Finn. “Likely not,” he said. “The lad seems like a bright boy. It’s yourself I’m worried about.”

  Maeve cackled. “You’d be away with the fairies if you thought I’d go for this.”

  She caught Rory smirking and stepped toward them. “What’s so funny?”

  “Look around you, lass.” Rory said. “You are ‘away with the fairies.’”

  Finn jumped between Maeve and Rory before Maeve could twitch a muscle. óengus stood and raised his hands.

  “Please,” óengus said. “Listen. Let me explain what’s different about the Otherworld and it might settle your mind.”

  Maeve declined óengus' offer of his seat on the crate and the four sat around the fire.

  “Before I begin—and I only want a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ from you—can I assume you don’t use your magic much?”

  Maeve pointed at óengus and opened her mouth.

  “—Yes or no, lass.”

  “I do not.”

  “You’re in luck,” óengus said. “Unlike íriu, our world here has inherent magic.”

  “So, there are no planes to trade energy with?” Finn asked.

  “There are a few that we know of,” óengus said. “And you can exchange energy with them. The magic within the Otherworld, however, can yield unpredictable results for the unprepared. Let me show you."

  óengus stood and beckoned Finn to join him. “Listen carefully before you do anything. I want you to summon a gust of wind, but I want you to do it without trying to trade with a plane. Whatever you do with your mind to access The Multicolored Plane back on íriu, try to skip that part.”

  “I’ve spent nearly a year trying to master that very thing,” Finn said. “I even learned how to access Mag Sen. Now you want me to forget it?”

  “Not forget. C’mere to me, think of absolutely nothing. Not a thing. When your mind is good and empty—O’Connor, we could do without your laughter right now—when your mind is empty, call the spell.”

  Finn closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. How do I empty my mind? He thought. It’s not just some bucket you can—that’s it. Finn pictured a bucket filled with nothing inside. When he understood its emptiness, he opened his eyes and looped his hands toward Maeve. “Gáe? nert.”

  A wide gust of wind pushed back her hair. She braced both arms against the ground behind her back to keep herself upright.

  “Was that necessary?” she asked after her hair returned to her shoulders and back.

  “You like jokes,” Finn said. “I was merely trying to save you from boredom.” He looked at óengus. “How did I do that without tapping a plane?”

  “That would be the innate energy from our own plane,” óengus said. “You’ll find little need to reach Mag Ionganaidh—that’s the one which comes naturally to bards and filí—to use your basic magic.”

  “When we came here he couldn’t do a lock of magic,” Maeve said. “What’s changed?”

  “That’s a bit beyond me,” óengus said. “My best guess? It was because you just crossed over. You’re walking, talking bits of magic yet to dissipate in a new world.”

  Finn nodded. “Not the worst guess. What happens if I need to use magic that isn’t ‘basic?’”

  óengus smiled. “That’s where you’ll need to exercise caution. There is a moment in casting when energy passes from Ionganaidh into our plane. In that moment the energies can feed upon each other into a loop until something terrible happens.”

  Maeve leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees. “‘Something terrible?’”

  “Indeed. It could alter the spell’s force and direction. It could harm everyone in this yard—” óengus looked at Maeve. “—or it could simply burn the caster.”

  “How can I avoid the part where I hurt everyone?” Finn asked.

  “Weeks of training and discipline.”

  “And if I don’t have that?”

  “Use the fishhook.”

  “I have to hold a fishhook now?”

  “You’ve been training for a year and you haven’t learned the fishhook?”

  Finn’s patience was fraying faster than the old man’s clothing. “It would appear not, wouldn’t it?”

  “It’s just another way of casting a spell,” the man said. He tapped his chin. “How did he do it? Right! Hold out your left hand—yes, like that. Now pull it toward your left shoulder. When it arrives at your shoulder, pop your right hand forward and cast your spell.”

  “And I’ll push forward energy from Mag Ionganaidh? Just like that?”

  “I wouldn’t do it blindly,” óengus said. “Let me tell you a little about that place. There’s a lake in the middle of Tír fo Thuinn, rather large. If you cross over into Mag Ionganaidh and travel to it, you’ll find that its blue waters shine like silver. The lake is ringed with irises and lilies. Green-haired spirits live in its waters."

  “Like fuath?” Finn asked.

  óengus nodded. “Exactly like.” He picked up his seat, stepped 40 paces away from any neighboring houses and set the crate down in the open. “Show me the fishhook. I won’t let you cast until you get your arms right.”

  It took but five tries for Finn to synchronize the movements of his arms. óengus stepped away from the crate and gave it a wide berth as he returned to the group.

  “Knock the crate over,” óengus said.

  Finn imagined the lake from Mag Ionganaidh with the lilies and the fuath. He drew one large breath through his nose and spoke as his left arm contracted. “Pléasca? guirid!” he said.

  A white burst of heat flashed from his right hand. The light struck the crate faster than Finn’s eyes could follow. One of the crate’s boards flew straight up into the air. The other boards splintered, their fragments lying charred and smoldering on the path in front of them.

  “Never done that before,” Finn said with a wide grin. He clapped Maeve’s shoulder. “Your turn.”

  “Keep that hand to yourself,” Maeve said.

  “Oi!” Rory shouted. “You’re not getting out of this. How many of your ranger spells do you remember?”

  “Enough.”

  “Let’s try one, then,” óengus said. “Start small.”

  “You’re not going to try to give me the ‘empty your head’ nonsense?”

  “That only works if you regularly attune yourself to a plane. Do you regularly use magic?”

  “I’ve already answered that question.”

  “Then your smallest spell, if you please.”

  Maeve closed her eyes and pulled out her scian knife. She clenched her jaw and muttered something to herself.

  “Maeve?” Rory asked.

  “Fine,” Maeve said. “Nertaid.”

  Amber light spread across her knife. Maeve held it away from her body and shook an index finger at it. “First try!” Maeve said, her face beaming with joy. “Finn, I haven’t conjured something on the first attempt since I was a girl!”

  “That’s grand,” óengus said. “Now try a slightly harder one.”

  “That wasn’t enough?”

  “It was not. You’ll need to practice.”

  “Hang on,” Finn said, running ahead. He picked up the remaining board from óengus' crate and jabbed it into the soil.

  “What is that?” Maeve asked.

  “A target,” Finn said. “To help you focus.”

  Maeve squinted and flicked her hand at Finn. “Fuip fíniúna.”

  A vine composed of amber light extended from her right hand and struck the ground beneath Finn’s feet, forcing him to hop out of the way.

  “Thanks for the help,” Maeve said. “Let’s get to work.”

  “Maura, we can’t,” Siobhan said.

  “You just told me that the father I’ve never met wanders Tír fo Thuinn, the roughest of mortal lands in the Otherworld. Now you tell me I can’t go rescue him.”

  “I would trust Maeve and Finn, barehanded and outnumbered, with my life,” Siobhan said. She twisted her torso to face the twins. “Would you say the same about Fergal?”

  “You’re damn right I would,” Brendan said. He twitched a shoulder toward his sister. “Herself? She’s uncertain, of course.”

  Ciara blinked slowly and rocked Brendan off-balance with a soft shove of her arm. “She’s got a gobdaw for a brother, that’s for certain.” Ciara and Brigid pinched their mouths and shared a humorless nod.

  Maura squirmed in her spot. “Siobhan—”

  “—Let’s set that aside for a moment,” Siobhan said. “With no decision. We still haven’t talked about your mam. How often do you normally hear from her?”

  Maura stopped shifting in place. Her arms hung still at her sides. Sorcha stepped to her right side and draped an arm over the younger woman. Maura inhaled and stiffened her back.

  “She’d visit every month,” Maura said. “She’d never be gone for more than two months at a time, judging by the weeds.”

  “When’s the last time you saw her?” Siobhan asked.

  “Three months ago.”

  Siobhan stepped forward and stooped in front of Maura to catch her eye. “If I’m being honest, personally I’d be more worried about your mom. I say that even if my people weren’t looking for her.”

  “Hai, she would,” Donal said. “Spend any amount of time with her and you’ll know it to be true.”

  “I’ve no reason to doubt you yet,” Maura said, her voice soft, “but I’m weary from worrying about Mam. It’s all I’ve done lately.”

  Siobhan pursed her lips and nodded. “As would I in your spot.” She waited for a few seconds, eyes square on Maura. “Here’s something I know: Your da and my friends know that this part of the world is where they need to be. Everything they now do is with an eye toward getting to Tír Tairnigire and finding us. So let’s go find your mam. Where does she go when she leaves here?”

  Maura pointed a thumb over her shoulder at Sorcha and Caitlín. “To see them.”

  “Beg your pardon?” Brendan said.

  “Before she travels to who-knows-where, she visits with Sorcha and Caitlín,” Maura said. “She says their home lies along her journey.”

  “I don’t know why she says that,” Sorcha said. “Caragh always leaves our home and turns south back to Derglocha.”

  “And all of you believe her?” Ciara asked. She shrugged off Siobhan’s glare. “It’s a fair question. They’re being told two different things.”

  “Maura, has she ever been specific about where she goes?” Siobhan asked. “Any little detail.”

  “She once told me she travels west through the Yellow Gates.”

  “Is there a road that leads west out of Derglocha?” Brigid asked.

  Caitlín shrugged. “No roads. Just the river.”

  “The forest we came out of,” Brigid said, “what’s on the other side of it? The side opposite Dearglocha?”

  “Hills,” Caitlín said. “Then mountains.”

  Brigid smiled. “What color are they?”

  “Color?” Caitlín asked. “They’re bleedin’ mountains! They’re mountain-colored!”

  “Caitlín, please,” Sorcha said. “I wouldn’t have thought of it, but someone could argue they’re yellowish.”

  Siobhan stood up and raised her eyebrows at Brigid.

  “It’s worth a look,” Brigid said.

  “Let’s go,” said Donal. “Why not?”

  “How about the fact that her mam and Murrough lied to her da about being in contact for years?”

  The twins dropped their heads in unison. “Ciara,” Brendan said with a sigh.

  “What is she talking about?” Maura asked.

  Siobhan shielded her eyes and looked to the sky. “Is there any chance you’ll allow us to tell you the entire story over a meal?”