"And ye were careful?"
"Yeah, like I said earlier, we were careful. Spiros made a really good plan! The batteries just aren't working right, I think," said Rian, leaning back as he finished recounting the mission to Eochaid.
"Ach. The modern world is finicky. Too bad the electrician I hired back when I came to modernize the house is dead."
Eochaid's face shifted, the dimensions never settling or resting. Is it supposed to do that? Rian was uncertain. Where am I? The murmuring of running water and a singing harp echoed in Rian's ears. The scent of sweet grass clung to the air. Rian wiggled his toes in a flowering bed of soft clover where bumblebees were flopping on large purple blossoms. Nearby, several tiny pixies dressed in hyacinth petal gowns were playing in a tiny, bubbling stream.
Shaking his head, Eochaid looked away. Then Eochaid's hair changed. The long strands of hair shortened, turning wavier than Rian had ever seen it. Though it was still inky and black, it looked thinner.
"I miss you…" said Rian, staring down as his feet, and moving his toes through the clover. "When are you coming home?"
"I miss you too, a leanbh," mumbled Eochaid, leaning over and ruffling Rian's hair. "Now… Ye boys be giving my things away to my enemies now, so?"
The comment jolted Rian to attention. Suspicion growing, he looked around himself once again.
Eochaid was at a garden table that was practically overflowing with food, and was seated on an ornately carved throne cushioned with plush Tyrion purple velvet. Behind him was a living fence woven from apple trees; the tallest branches formed a canopy overhead where more flower petal gowned pixies tended yellow gold, glittering apples. Where am I? Why am I talking to Father? When did I start talking to Father? How am I- oh… Is this even real?
"Father?"
In shock, Rian couldn't help but gape at Eochaid. In response, the man waved his hand. A floating tray appeared next to him with a floral tea set. The cups clinked on the tray when Eochaid poured the steaming tea.
"What…?" Rian took the tea cup gingerly, noticing that the dimensions of the cup weren't entirely correct.
"I just mean- Jesus, Mary, and Joseph… Really, Rian?" asked Eochaid, "Ye brats are more than welcome take anything ye need from my room, and by all means find other people for my things… But a flapdoodle like Pinion? Rian, you d'be knowin' that he's on the feckin' Aegis Society now? We're enemies, says I,"
Eochaid scoffed, took a sip of his tea, then shook his head. A plaited white streak in his otherwise jet black hair swung back and forth with his head. The hair follicles were noticeably thinner and more fragile than the rest of his hair. It was the only evidence of his true age. From the flush of life in his otherwise pale cheeks, to the brightness in his eyes, and the lack of wrinkles, every part of Eochaid looked like the very picture of a healthy man in his late twenties. Though, Rian did think that his long beard made him look like he could have been as old as forty.
"Father, aren't you dead?" asked Rian, "Where are we? Is this a dream?"
"Oh, I'm dead now?" Eochaid grumbled into his teacup then gestured to their surroundings. "We're in a garden. Are you awake enough see it now?"
"A garden? Where? Did you make it?"
"I did,"
"What for?" Rian looked around. Across the way and tucked nearly out of sight was an archway covered with a thick velvet curtain. Quartz crystals hanging from the apple branches over the archway cast rainbow shadows upon the woven fence. Across from it was another archway, covered in a curtain of glass beads, with carvings that made Rian think of church statues. Yet another was gated with a woven apple door; a thick fur pelt that looked like it once belonged to a wolf was draped over it. Still more archways beckoned, but they were too far away for Rian to get a good look at.
Spread on the garden table in front of them was a veritable feast of every single one of his and Eochaid's favorite foods; just a few among them were cheesy potatoes, giant meatballs stuffed with cheese and coated in savory gravy, heaps of soft pretzels that were draped in cheese sauce, apple pie, blackberry pie, beef pot pie with massive cube of tender steak. Rian loved pie. Eochaid did, too. Never one to turn down food, Rian dove right into the feast.
"This is a place be happy, isn't it?" asked Eochaid, with an affectionate tone and his usual way of answering questions with more questions.
"Yeah, but where are we? Is it faerie magic?"
Eochaid raised an eyebrow, then leaned on his elbow. Smiling fondly, he adjusted his thick, black braided beard so that it wouldn't get in the food when he leaned forward. "Now what other magic do I be usin', Rian?"
"What are we doing here?"
"Aren't we talkin' now?"
"Aren't you dead?"
Leaning back on the throne, Eochaid took another sip of tea, blinking slowly at Rian while taking his time to answer. It was the normal game for him, and Rian hated it.
"What exactly has Pyralis been puttin' in ya?" Eochaid reached over, pinching Rian's ribcage in concern. "You've gotten skinny, haven't ya?"
"Pyralis?" Angry, Rian moved away from Eochaid. "I haven't seen her for six months! We haven't seen anyone from the Obsidian Assembly in six months! Father, where are you? Where is everyone?"
"Pyralis is missin'?" asked Eochaid, pulling his arm back and looking genuinely surprised. "She hasn't come back now?"
"Yeah, well we don't need her anyways," said Rian, chewing on a large piece of beef roast. It was dream food and cooked up by a ghost, so it had no actual substance. But it still tasted divine. "Spiros has been taking better care of us than she ever did,"
Before Eochaid could respond, three knocks echoed through the garden.
"What was that?" asked Rian, jumping up from the table with Eochaid.
A girl sobbed. Heartbroken. Inconsolable.
"Stay here. Don't touch anything," ordered Eochaid, charging toward the door with the wolf pelt.
What? On alert, Rian looked at his surroundings. As usual with dream locations and the Feylands, they weren't anywhere he recognized. Nor could he discern which direction the sound came from. In dreams, sound didn't travel intuitively. The crying came from all directions at once, instead of from one set place.
But he could tell that the cry came from one of the archways. Nearest was the archway covered with the velvet curtain. Behind it came the voices of several laughing men. No crying, thought Rian, glancing apprehensively toward the archway covered in the wolf pelt. Something about it was fearsome. Nightmarish. Shuddering, Rian moved to the archway with the church statues.
Immediately, upon opening the door, Rian was met with yet another door. This one was wooden and attached to the oldest church that Rian had ever seen. The charming old stones were weathered, and covered in fading white paint. Above the door was a set of three windows. Framing it were two flower beds that were scrubbed clean of any offending dirt.
"Where…?" Rian spun around, trying to get a bearing on his surroundings. To his relief, the original gateway was still there, waiting for him to return to the dream garden. Quickly, Rian glanced at his hands.There was an extra finger. Still dreaming, thought Rian, coming to the conclusion that he was astral projecting.
No one is crying here, thought Rian, returning to the garden. The velvet curtained door was still across from him. As it seemed much more inviting than the door with the wolf pelt, Rian decided to approach it first.
The curtain didn't budge. How do you lock a curtain? Annoyed, Rian tugged at it again.
There was more laughter. A man cooed in an extremely posh London accent, "Finn, darling, is that you?"
"No? My name is Rian,"
"That's too bad. I'm waiting for Finn." A man so pale that his skin was nearly translucent popped halfway out from behind the curtain, wrapped in a blood red silk robe. "How can I help you, little boy?"
"Someone was crying. I'm looking for them,"
"Crying? Oh, dear…" The man frowned, then placed a hand at his collar bone, deep in thought. There, Rian could see thin blue veins trailing under the skin. "I'm afraid, I haven't heard any crying. Have you seen a man named Finn?"
"Finn? Do you mean my father?" Rian pointed at the table. "We were over there when we heard the crying. Are you hungry?"
"No, thank you," said the man, pulling himself back through the curtain. "Now I must get back. If you see Finn, tell him I'll be waiting,"
Before Rian could answer, Eochaid appeared as soundlessly as a phantom, furiously dragging Rian away from the curtain.
"Would you-? Ach! What did I just tell you now?" snapped Eochaid, muttering furiously in Irish. "You're not t'be goin' back there, hear me now? That room is a private room, so!"
"If it's private, why's it out in the open like that?"
"Because I went through it recently," said Eochaid, planting Rian back at the garden table. Breathing hard, he kept glancing back at the wolf pelt, fear and anger clouding his eyes.
Frustrated, Rian pulled his arm away from Eochaid and glared. "Why are you mad at me? I was just looking for whoever was crying!"
"Because I specifically told ya not t'be poking your nose around. Just-! Rian, the cryin' didn't come from there, and there's nothin' and no one and nothin' in there that'll be interestin' for you through that curtain, so stay out," said Eochaid, aghast and moving Rian back to the table, swearing under his breath. "Now I'm after findin' Niamh! So just stay where'yer at and keep yourself out of trouble!"
"Niamh? That's who was crying?" Rian felt the blood drain out of his face. A chill settled under his skin. Why would Niamh be crying like that? "Father-,"
Muttering in frustration, Eochaid quickly pulled away from Rian. With a quick pace, he practically ran to the door draped in the wolf pelt. The hair rose on Rian's neck. Cold dread fell through him, settling in a sickening heap in the pit of his gut. Niamh? What happened? Who made you cry like that?
Whoever it was would die. Rian would make certain of it. Barely breathing, Rian ignored Eochaid's order to stay in the garden.
The woven Apple turned to ancient Oak.
[Rian?]
A garden greeted Rian once again, but this one was dark. The freezing cold earth smelled like damp, decaying leaves. Song birds surrounded Rian, shouting and darting through the thick, gnarled branches of naked oak trees while twittering intense conversations. To some, it may have looked whimsical, but Rian knew they were battling over territory. Wolves stood at attention by the archway, guarding it with snarling teeth.
[Rian, where are you?]
The voice shrieked through the keening songbirds. Glittering spheres of glass hung from ribbons in the branches overhead. Within them, eels writhed, contorting into knots that had no end. Rian tripped. Cold terror shot through him when he came face to face with a corpse that lay propped up against a well.
It was fresh. His black hair was thin and patchy. His skin, pulled tight over his emaciated body, had not yet decayed. Their trousers were frayed and torn at the hems, and looked like they hadn't been washed in weeks. Wrapped over his shoulders was a blanket; it was falling, revealing a skeletal chest that hollowed every time he breathed.
Oh, God, he's not dead, thought Rian, scrambling back to his feet in terror. Something about the face felt like he was looking into a mirror.
Midges swarmed, biting at the skeleton's flesh. Too weak to stop them, he barely reacted, save for reaching out an arm to Rian. The skeleton opened his mouth, revealing gums with no teeth.
What do I do? It was a dream. A nightmare. Nothing there was real. Yet again, Rian tripped, falling into a ditch. Flies were so thick they made a buzzing cloud. Shrieking, Rian swiped at them, kicking up dirt that revealed more skeletons. Many were missing fingers. A few had entire limbs removed, with cleanly cut stumps where their arm or leg should have been.
Rian screamed, "Niamh! Where are you?!"
There was no alternative. There was no other thought. Only the pure need to find a way to Niamh's voice, desperately begging for help.
A heifer with rusty ears climbed down the ditch, dragging Rian away and back to the archway.
"Flee. Do not fight this battle," said the heifer. Eyes swollen red and bloody from tears, the heifer let out a cry that split the sky with booming thunder and blinding light. Blood dripped to the earth. It turned to an acorn, which sprouted in the dirt.
Rian tried to speak. Nothing but hissing air came out.
[Please... Brother, I'm so scared…]
"Niamh!"