Serene daylight warmed my skin. The tall grass I lay in cradled my body. I felt like Sam in the Shire. Relief washed over me.
We’d met and survived the monster of the Between. We knew its name, and we lived to tell the tale.
Standing stones rose around me like pillars supporting the everblue sky. Fluffy clouds floated by on a warm breeze. The rest of my friends lay in the grass too, like a spell of peace had overtaken us. Even my dragon shifter brother, who was still a sunset-orange dragon, lay on his back puffing smoke rings into the air. I could stay here forever.
But we didn’t have time. “Guys? What are we doing? We’re wasting time.”
We had a small window to figure out where we were, get to Murias if we weren’t already on it, find Dagda, and beg him to heal my dad. And even then, things would just be getting started. After getting back to the Bay Area, we’d have to go head to head against the lord of the dead, and not let any innocent civilians die in the process. Oh, and a horde unlike anything I’d ever dealt with was preparing to wage war on my turf for the sake of an artifact we had yet to identify.
One thing at a time Sean. Worry about one thing at a time.
Casting off the spell of exhaustion, I climbed to my feet and yanked the others up.
Gavin shifted back to the normal brother I knew. I shook my head. My brother. A dragon shifter. From what I gleaned in Celtic myth, shapeshifting was a basic magical ability that many of the legends had, and almost always without explanation. So why I didn’t get cool shifter powers was beyond me. Rob. Tain, and now Gavin. I’d have to ask Dad about that when he came to his senses.
“Rob. Is this Murias?”
With a hoot the hobgoblin shifted into an owl and flapped high into the air, perching on a standing stone. His owl head turned a complete circle several times before he drifted back down to us. “I think so. We’ll need to question someone local to be positive.”
A creek cut through a damp, moss covered forest. We followed it upstream.
Before too long we found a small mound the size of a bean bag chair with a little wooden door. Rob pointed it out. I never would have noticed it from afar.
“That’s a Far Darrig’s house,” said my hobgoblin.
“They friendly creatures?”
“Fairly gentle fae,” said Rob. “A cousin of sorts to the hobgoblin.”
Moss blanketed the mound, but a tiny chimney puffed smoke out of the top, telling us someone was home. The door was no bigger than the wide side of a toaster.
I knelt and knocked. After a few seconds we were greeted by a little fae man. His lips held a pipe whose stem shot out as long as Pinocchio’s nose. The puffs of smoke smelled sweet and earthy.
“Well hello,” he said. His cheerful Irish accent made the words roll out of his mouth in a jolly sort of way. We only had Rob and the korrigs by way of comparison. Where hobgoblins looked to me like muppets, this fellow had a bare bones structure. Not an ounce of fat on his body anywhere. Between his brick red cap and tunic, he could have passed for a Christmas elf, except for the black hair that framed his face and chin, much like a monkey. Knife shaped ears flicked every which direction, like a horse would.
With my cohuleen druith cap, I could communicate in near perfect ancient Gaelic. “Pardon friend. Sean O’Farrell’s my name. We travelers hail from the far away land of the Bay Area. Be this the island of Murias?”
“I, Alby Witticus, son of Bralby, will gladly impart that information, if you share me pipe.”
“We don’t have the time for—”
Rob whispered in my ear. “The fae take great offense when you reject their hospitality. He just wants to converse. Play along.”
The Far Darrig snorted and hawked a wad of phlegm into the creek.
“Umm. Do you have a spare pipe?”
The little fae smiled. “Nope. Feel free to partake of mine.” He offered me the long pipe. His saliva dripped off the end.
I gulped and forced a smile. I moved to wipe the spit off of the end, but Rob hissed in my ear again. “Don’t wipe it off. That’s an even greater offense.”
“What?!”
“It’s seen as a bond of brotherhood and peace to share a pipe. Your act of wiping off the spit shows a lack of trust and a rejection of his friendship.”
“Can’t we just say ‘g’day mate’ and be off to some other fae who can easily answer the question?”
“We’re just as likely to run into a monster as a fae here. And fae customs are pretty much the same across the board.”
The Far Darrig took a liking to Tain, whom he scratched behind the ears. I steeled my resolve, reminded myself this was for Dad, and shoved the pipe in my mouth.
“You’ve got to puff it,” said Rob.
I did. And immediately started hacking my lungs out. The stuff did not taste at all like it smelled. It wasn’t bad, I just could not handle it.
The red capped fae laughed and smacked my back. “There there. First pipe?”
“Uh huh.” My eyes grew watery.
“Tell me more of your travels and what lead ye to me doorstep.”
I eyed Rob, who confirmed this was necessary. I sighed, puffed some more, coughed a lot, and recounted the abridged version of my tale. Gavin and Charice made the mistake of interrupting to find out what was going on. Both times, Alby Witticus would ask me to begin again, as he had lost track of my tale. After the third telling, much coughing, and passing of the pipe, I finally got through to the end, down to the moment we crossed paths with Alby himself.
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The Far Darrig’s beady gleaming eyes took in our group. “What a lovely tale of turmoil and trials.”
He drew a long, final puff, releasing a cloud before answering. “Aye. Ye be on the island of Murias alright.”
“Thank you,” I said. “We’re looking for Dagda. Which direction does he live?”
“First let me tell ye my tale. While ye be but twenty years old, I be over seven hundred. Hear now. I’ll sing it for ye.”
He danced a jig and began singing in rhyme. A chorus of chirping birds and chittering chipmunks took up the melody with him.
“I’m done,” I said. Before I could incur the fae’s wrath, I ushered my friends back the way we came. Alby was so caught up in his own Disney sing-along moment, he never noticed we left.
“What the heck was that about?” asked Gavin.
I grunted. “A colossal waste of time, that’s what.”
Spotting a tall hill, we decided to hike to the top for a better vantage point. From there we took in the Island of Murias. Forests ran along one side, and ahead of us lay rolling hills with sparse trees and low bushes.
But off in the distance Charice noticed a structure of sorts.
“What’s that,” she asked.
“Looks like a circle of standing stones,” said Gavin.
“Let’s head there.”
Along the way we encountered more fae. Another Far Darrig, a creature who turned out to be Rob’s distant cousin, and even a drunk Clurichaun who hoarded ale instead of gold, which was as close to meeting a real leprechaun-like fae as we’d ever gotten.
No one could tell me where to find Dagda or his cauldron.
After a few hours we were all hungry, grouchy, and a little more than halfway to the standing stone circle.
That’s when a gwyllgi decided to attack us. Last time we got attacked by a flaming hellhound, it almost killed Gavin, Rob, and I. This time we had experience under our belts, plus Charice and her aerial attacks.
We made quick work of it. I ended up dropkicking it into a river.
By the time we got to the circle of standing stones it was well into the afternoon. And for the first time that day we ran into another human. Well sorta.
A good looking twenty something year old man sauntered through the standing stones. Everything from his thick auburn beard, rolled mustache, square spectacle glasses, and plaid scarf shouted Berkeley hipster.
“Aengus Og?”
The Celtic love god blinked as if he had not noticed us at. Must have been lost in thought.
The last time I’d run into the Celtic god of love, we’d shared some pizza after he saved us from the Dullahan. Much like seeing Diarmuid here on the Otherside, Aengus had also done away with modern clothes and garbed himself in a rich plaid tunic.
“Well, if it isn’t Sean O’Farrell, defeater of Diarmuid, and destroyer of the Dearg Due.”
I was on guard. I didn’t know how he felt about either of those facts, so I prodded him with a question. “You heard about that huh?”
“Heard about it? You’re only the talk of half of the Tuatha. First you stand up to Donn, at Tech Duinn no less, you steal Manann’s boat and sword, and then you storm the Dearg Due’s lair in Oakland. I just heard about Brigid too? That was a misstep. She’s a sweetheart. Why’d you go do that?”
I bit my lip. “That was and wasn’t me. There was a Fetch involved, and my Keening curse. No time to explain. What are you doing here?”
“In Tir na nOg? Well, I was escorting Diarmuid back after you thrashed him. Didn’t want Donn coming after me. He did put me in charge of his son after all. Don’t know why. Diarmuid’s a grown demigod, who can look after himself. I intended to get back to Berkeley right away, but I ran into some old friends and got sidetracked for a day or so. What are y’all doing here? Causing a scene I bet.”
I gave him the summary, but excluded the second meeting I had with Diarmuid at the Slane Well. It sounded like those two were still on good speaking terms and Aengus actually did not know about that yet.
“Need Dagda to heal your old man huh? Not a bad plan. One problem though. You’ll never find Dagda here on this island.”
My girlfriend let out an exasperated sigh. “How many islands are there?”
“There’s Falias, named after the Stone of Fal. Then there’s Gorias, and Findias. And if you really want to get technical, there’s Tech Duinn. All the islands form a circle around the open body of water that is Tir fo Thuinn. But Dagda isn’t on any of those islands.”
“Crap.” I ran my hands through my hair. “Isn’t Dagda your dad? You have no idea where he is?”
“Dagda being my dad is like Abraham being your former president. Dagda’s got a lot of descendants and he’s been gone a long, long time.”
“Great. So there’s no way to heal my dad.”
“I didn’t say that,” said Aengus, smiling. “I happen to know where Papa Celt is. Ever heard of Hybrasail?”
“I’ve heard of Hyrule. But, no. Haven’t heard of Hybrasail.”
“Hybrasail is a phantom island that only appears every seven years. Seven years in Tir na nOg time, that is. That’s where Papa Celt lives now. You think I hate drama? Wait until you see my dad. Even I still talk to my family, every now and then. My dad only wants to be accessible every seven years, and then some.”
“How do we get to Hybrasail?”
“In a time crunch? There’s a very, very narrow window of opportunity to get there. Just your luck, it’s due to appear today in fact, but it’s never appeared in the same place twice across all of Tir na nOg. That’s why no one bothered putting it on the map.”
“So there’s no way to know where it will appear?”
Aengus Og thought it over. “Well if you were a certain god of the sea realm and you had a certain boat that you could command to take you there, the magical boat should know how to find a mystical island. But that’s a guess.”
Rob grinned. “You mean Scuabtuinne, the wave sweeper.”
“Get yourself that boat, and you’ve got a way to Hybrasail.”
“But how do we get from here to Tir fo Thuinn?” I asked.
“I could lead you to Manann’s domain. It’ll be nice to wipe that cocky smile off his face. He’s gotten so big headed about ruling the whole sea realm. He’s got it coming if you ask me. Now, which of you can fly?”
Charice, Rob, and Gavin raised their hands.
Aengus turned to me. “Only you and your dog-dad need to figure out a way there.”
“I could try to summon Enbarr. She could carry me on top of the ocean,” I said.
“But what will we do with Tain?” asked Rob.
Charice volunteered. “I can carry him? I’ve lifted Sean before.”
“It’s about an hour long flight, if you’ve got the wind at your back,” said Aengus Og. “You got a dragon shifter right here. Sean, why don’t you hold the dog, and ride on the dragon all the way there.”
“But what about you?” I asked.
“Don’t you worry about me.”
“Why don’t we just fly straight to Hybrasail?” asked Charice.
Aengus Og shook his head. “It can’t be flown to, accessed by rift, or dolmen. My dad made sure of that. Only way is to approach by sea. And once every seven years.”
“That’s why they call it Hybra-sail. You’re welcome,” said Rob with a bow.
Aengus Og laughed. I shook my head. Hobgoblins.
“Let’s get going then. For Dad,” said Gavin. Fire laced along his skin. When it extinguished, a dragon crouched on all fours where my brother had been.
“I can’t wait to see the look on Manann’s face when we steal his boat. Hilarious,” said Aengus Og. In the wink of an eye the Celtic god of love, shifted into a swan with an impressive wingspan.
I threw up my hands. “Of course you’re a swan.”