Title: Pilgrim's Way

Author: dragonwrangler

Story contents © August 15, 2009

Rating: Teen

Warning: Slash

Author's Note: This is part of my 2008 NaNoWriMo novel and is basically the prequel story. Because I was trying to make a 50,000 novel out of a two minute trailer, it ended up more an original story than a fanfic because of the bit of research I did on 18th century Ireland, and dropped straight into fantasy in the first line. But since the whole story is based on the synopsis, it's still a Satan's Alley fanfic in my head. Hopefully it will still be an interesting read. Set in 18th century Ireland during the Penal Laws when the Catholic religion was basically outlawed.

Disclaimer: Father O'Malley is the property of Dreamworks Pictures. All other characters are the property of dragonwrangler. No profit is being made from this fanfic.

Chapter One: Messengers

The second sight was a talent Father Pádraig O'Malley found both a blessing and a curse. Today, the sight allowed him to see one of the many fey creatures that lived within the city of Belfast. It was perched on the edge of the buildings that formed one wall of the alleyway where Pádraig was holding his accounting class. The creature was as gray as the stonework of the building and would have been mistaken for a gargoyle, if anyone else were able to see it. Pádraig made sure not to turn his head for a closer look; he knew better than to draw that kind of attention down on himself.

Leaping up onto one of the chimneys, the creature stretched its wings for balance and looked towards the main street that was out of sight from where Pádraig sat. The corner of the alleyway he was in was well hidden- one of those sites that only children would seek out; and not being that far from being one himself, it had not been difficult for Pádraig to find. Still, it was a dangerous thing to do- for both himself and his students. If caught, it could cause serious trouble for the student's parents; for himself, it could mean anything from imprisonment to exile or death. Catholics were not allowed an education under the Penal Laws, and Pádraig risked much to teach the few that wished to learn.

Still, the second sight gave him an advantage few others had- the ability to see what others could not see. And what is it that you can see that I cannot, wild one? he wondered as he showed one of the boys where they had made a mistake in their addition. The creature turned away from the street and made a worried warbling sound. Pádraig nodded, and closed his book.

"That will be all today. Time to go." He calmly packed away his copy of the accounting primer they had been studying from and stood. The three boys who had managed to get away for the class did the same. They were used to having their class end before they had finished a section and quickly hid their worksheets, nodded to Pádraig, and quietly slipping away, softly murmuring their thanks as they left.

When the boys were gone, Pádraig glanced up to thank the creature, but it was nowhere to be seen. He frowned; the loss of the creature unsettled him but he was not sure why. Usually, whatever creature was near would keep watch until Pádraig signaled he was leaving. Why did this one leave so soon? Shaking his head, he hitched the strap of his bag over a shoulder and bent down to pass through the broken boards that cut off the end of the alley.

When he reached the side street the alley was attached to, Pádraig was able to slip out of the alley without anyone seeing him. Attention was the last thing Pádraig wanted. The primer in his bag was enough to bring the full force of the law down on him: the cross hidden inside his waistcoat was even more dangerous to his wellbeing than the primer.

As he turned to head home, Pádraig glanced up at the rooftops. He spotted several groups of fey creatures silhouetted against the skyline. They were all facing towards the west. Occasionally one would hop down to look at him and make a mournful sound before returning to the others. Unease began to grow in Pádraig's chest and he allowed his footsteps to quicken.

The fey are not usually this active during the day. I wonder what could be upsetting them. And why are they looking towards the west? Several possibilities came to Pádraig's mind, none of them good.

He reached the building he resided in and quickly ran up the stairs to the small room over the bakery who's owner had rented him the room. He paused a moment, listening for any movement within before opening the door and stepping inside. After carefully shutting the door, he quickly pulled back the rug that covered the floor near the bed. Pulling a few boards free, he found that everything hidden there was still in its place. Pádraig sighed in relief and placed the primer beside his priestly vestments before replacing the boards and the rug. As he straightened, a knock at his door sent his heart pounding in his chest. He stood, uncertain, until a voice called out softly, "Patrick?"

Recognizing the voice, Pádraig closed his eyes a moment, then crossed the room and opened the door.

"Uncle."

The man standing on the other side of the door was tall, with dark, almost black, hair, hazel eyes flecked with green and gold, and an open face; a contrast to Pádraig's blond hair and blue eyes. James Mahon; brother to the woman who had raised Pádraig as her own.

"What brings you…"

The look on James's face caused Pádraig's voice to trail off. "What has happened?" Pádraig asked.

James pursed his lips then sighed. "It's Daniel, Patrick." A band of pain tightened around Pádraig's heart at those words and the look on his uncle's face. "He fell from his horse. The physician doubts he will live through the night." James took another breath before adding softly, "He was asking for you."

Stunned, Pádraig stared at his uncle for a moment, and then pulled himself together. He nodded and reached for his coat then followed James back down to the street and into the carriage his uncle had arrived in. Pádraig listened to the driver clicked his tongue and snap the reins. The horses hooves clopping steadily against the cobbled street.

"How did it happen?" Pádraig asked after a few minutes, surprising himself with the question and at how steady his voice was.

James shook his head. "They say it was an accident. His horse was spooked and ran. When Daniel tried to regain control the horse reared up and lost it's balance. Daniel and the horse went down in the middle of the street."

"That can't be right." Pádraig frowned and shook his head. "Daniel is an expert rider; he wouldn't have lost control of a horse like that."

James sighed. "Sometimes one's skill with a horse is not enough Patrick." Pádraig opened his mouth to protest, but James held up his hand to silence him. "I will be looking into what happened." He shook his head again. "But it won't save Daniel," James added softly.

Pádraig bit his lower lip. He knew his uncle, one of the many magistrates for Belfast, would not rest until he knew the truth, but no matter what answers he fond, he would blame himself for being unable to do more.

"Forgive me uncle. I meant no disrespect."

James rested a hand on Pádraig's shoulder, but said nothing more. Pádraig was silent, his thoughts jumbled as they headed across town to the Leeson mansion. Braced against the rocking carriage, Pádraig tried to straighten out those thoughts. Too many memories of his years of friendship with Daniel crowded his mind though and Pádraig had to restrain his hands from reaching for the cross he carried. He could not risk it, though the need to keep that a secret from James had always left Pádraig with a lurking sense of guilt.

The carriage came to a halt and Pádraig looked up at the large white building, trying to gain strength from the solidity of its stonework. Along the roof line, Pádraig spotted several fey creatures, huddled over one end of the building. Pádraig closed his eyes. Of course they would know. Reluctantly he followed his uncle out of the carriage.

Standing in the entrance waiting for them was Peter Leeson, Daniel's father. A big man, who appeared more like a blacksmith than the accountant that he truly was, he looked lost, his eyes dark with a pain that he tried to hide as he reached out to shake James's hand.

"Good of you to come James," he said before nodding his head in Pádraig's direction. "And you as well, Patrick."

"How is he, Peter?"

The man shook his head, a bewildered look crossing his features. "He's…" The man paused and took a deep breath. "There's nothing to be done now. We're just waiting. Pastor Thomas was with Daniel earlier, but he's is with Mary now, she has more need of comfort now than..." He glanced up the curving staircase. "I should…"

James nodded and wrapped an arm around the devastated man. "I will go with you," he said. "Patrick, perhaps you should see Daniel first. You can give your condolences to Daniel's mother after you are done."

"The sitting room," Daniel's father said quietly as James led him away.

Pádraig watched the two men head upstairs before making his way to the sitting room. Servants moved silently around him, a few of them parents of his students. All carried looks of sadness and once Pádraig stopped to discreetly offer a few words of comfort and a softly spoken prayer.

When he reached the sitting room, he paused to take a deep breath. A sheet of fabric covered the entrance, closing the room off from the rest of the house. He reached out, pulled the sheet aside, and then stepped inside.

A small bed had been positioned in the center of the room, the other furniture shoved haphazardly to the edges. Pádraig was not surprised to see James's daughter Anne, and James's second wife, Isabella, sitting by Daniel's side. Anne was betrothed to Daniel; they were planning to be married in the spring. A single glance at Daniel's pain clenched face told Pádraig that would never happen.

As soon as Anne spotted him, she left Daniel's side to hugged him, weary sobs shaking her frame. Pádraig returned the hug, rubbing her back in comforting circles.

"I don't understand! I don't understand! Why Daniel?" She looked up, her face streaked with tears. "We we're to be married, Patrick." She gasped and closed her eyes tightly.

Pádraig rested his forehead against his cousin's. "I don't have an answer to that, Anne. Only God does. He will grant you the strength to get through this, you just need to trust in Him. He will take care of Daniel until you can see each other again." He pulled her close, letting her cry against his shoulder; shutting his own eyes to keep his tears at bay.

They stood that way for a few minutes, drawing what comfort they could from one another, and then Anne took a step back as she wiped her face with the back of her hands. Looking up, Pádraig nodded to Isabella, the woman James's had married a few years after Anne's mother Sarah had dies, before forcing himself to look again at Daniel.

A movement on the table though drew Pádraig's gaze away from the bed. He was not surprised to see Súiche, the fey creature that was always somewhere near Daniel, perched on the table where it could watch the room without getting in the way. Pádraig was surprised that Súiche was staring at Isabella instead of Daniel, teeth bared and fur bristling.

Isabella, thankfully, could not see Súiche- Pádraig didn't want to think of the chaos the sight of the fey creature would have cause if she had. Not that Súiche would do any harm; still, the idea that a creature many considered cursed was in Daniel's room would cause more trouble than comfort.

"Pádraig?" His name was barely audible, but it seemed to silence everything in the room. Daniel's eyes opened, and he stared at the ceiling in confusion as he whispered again, "Pádraig?" Súiche turned away from Isabella and cooed softly at Daniel as he rested his head on his front paws.

Anne quickly returned to Daniel's side. She sat down on the edge of the bed and took the dying man's hand. "He's here, Daniel, he's here." She gave Pádraig a pleading look over her shoulder.

Pádraig slowly walked over to the bed. He had ministered to more than a few of the dying since he had been ordained a priest two years earlier, but this…

He stood beside his aunt on the opposite side of the bed from Anne, and gently touched the back of Daniel's other hand. There were dark bruises mottling the skin of the arm that rested on top of the white coverlet. "Daniel," he said, and was unable to say more.

Daniel tried to turn his head, but gasped in pain as soon as he moved. Isabella pressed her hand against Daniel's shoulder and admonished softly, "You shouldn't move, it will just make things worse, Daniel."

"Not much…" Daniel's voice trailed off and he drew in a few breaths through clenched teeth before continuing. "Not much worse it can get."

"Perhaps you could move for a moment, Isabella, so the boy could get close enough for Daniel to see him." Pádraig blinked in surprise. He had not notice the bard, Colm Cille, sitting in the far corner of the room. Colm nodded at Pádraig, then shifted his gaze back to Isabella. Turning back, Pádraig found his aunt shooting the bard a dark look but, as if aware of Pádraig's attention, the look disappeared, replaced by a more proper grieving expression.

She rose to her feet. "Anne," she said with a quick glance at her step daughter, "we should see how Mary is doing." Isabella turned and walked out of the room. Anne bit her lower lip; she then bent down to lightly kiss the back of Daniel's hand. "I will be back as soon as I can, love," she said, then ran from the room.

Pádraig sighed and moved closer to the head of the bed. Súiche stood up on his hind legs, forelegs tucked under his chest and head cocked to the side as he watched the two women leave the room. When Anne's footsteps faded away, Súiche jumped over to the bed and curled up on Daniel's pillow, resting his muzzle and one paw on Daniel's shoulder.

"She is angry with me, isn't she," Daniel asked. The band of pain grew even tighter around Pádraig's heart as he looked at the bruises and scraped skin he could now see along the side of Daniel's face. An old memory from when they were both much younger flashed through Pádraig's mind; his hand gently stroking the smooth skin of Daniel's face as Daniel lay on top of him. Pádraig stared at a spot to the left of the bed, a blush heating his cheeks.

The sound of a chair shifting snapped Pádraig back to the present. "No," Colm said. The bard stepped to the side of the bed. "Isabella is angry with herself."

"Herself?" Pádraig asked.

"Yes." The bard did not elaborate, though there was a distinct harshness in the single word that sent a shiver of foreboding down Pádraig's spine.

A wavering sigh slipped out of Daniel. "Please don't make an example of her because of me, Colm."

"It is not for you to judge who will be made an example of Daniel." The bard met Pádraig's gaze. "I will keep Isabella occupied so you can have time to say farewell." He then rested a hand on Daniel's head. "Peace be yours, Daniel."

Pádraig watched a shimmering glow flared a moment around the bard's hand as he bent down and kissed Daniel on the forehead, then it disappeared. Daniel's eyes widened in surprise as the bard moved away. Súiche gave a little chirp of content as Colm scratched him behind one ear. He smiled then looked up and nodded once before walking away.

Not sure what the bard had done, Pádraig asked carefully, "Daniel?"

Daniel looked startled and a little frightened as he looked up at Pádraig. "I can't feel the pain, Pádraig. It's still there but…" He swallowed. "A miracle?" he asked as if searching for reassurance.

Pádraig sat down on the edge of the bed and carefully took Daniel's hand in his own as he shook his head and smiled gently down at his friend. "Perhaps more of a gift than a miracle?"

"Yes." Daniel smiled and closed his eyes as Pádraig stared at the doorway the bard had passed through and wondered, But a gift for whom?