Chapter 7
BACK HOME IN DERRY:
They were all in good spirits by the time they had reached Tir Na Nog. More clouds had settled in, blocking out the sun entirely. It was depressing yet they all seemed to have a hidden smile just waiting to break through. Rohan led the way into a cluster of boulders, which served as the entrance to King Fin Varra's home. Once inside, they had to place their hands over a stone. A mist developed surrounding them all. "Is this…natural?" asked Sam.
"You telling me that you've dealt with sentinels, demons and angels and what-not and you're worried if this stuff is natural?" asked Angus.
She looked him over. "I meant your proximity to me."
Realizing that he was brushing up against her when he had a clear amount of space to stand, Angus shifted almost instantly. He coughed. "Uh, sorry 'bout that." His eyes darted around the room.
Sam hid a grin, as well as Rohan and Ivar.
Just then, they appeared in King Fin Varra's lair. Sam looked around. Angus nudged her. She glanced at him and then followed his eyes. They were looking down. Sitting nobly upon his throne was Fin Varra, as mighty and majestic as any king…fairy sized.
"King Fin Varra," said Rohan. "This is Sam Fitzgerald. She requested to see you."
"Huh," muttered the king. "On what grounds?"
"It's a matter of great importance, your majesty," said Sam softly. She bowed so low, her head nearly grazed his crown.
He sat up in his throne. "Well, get on with it."
"My name is Sam Fitzgerald…but to those who fear me, I am Tyrannicidae."
The king began stroking his bearded chin. It was a common habit amongst kings with beards. " 'Tyrannicidae'? Hm," he mused. "Interesting. You call yourself the Slayer?"
"My head is not that big. No," she said, shaking her head. "A sentinel calls me that."
"Sentinel," the king said as he stopped stroking his chin. "You speak of the Guardians?"
"I know no others," she said. "But what do you know of them?"
He huffed and shifted himself. "Only that they are the most vile, putrid, annoying creatures I've had the unfortunate dismay to encounter in all my life…with the exception of Angus."
"Hey!" said Angus.
Sam, however, was not deterred. "Was her name Ona?"
"She didn't give a name but if that's it, I think she should change her name to 'impish' and not 'graceful.'"
"So, is that what Ona's name means?" said Sam to herself. "I never knew that. Anyway, what did she say…or do?"
King Fin Varra heaved a big breath. "She shouldered a great burden on me is what. She wants me to keep a secret for her."
Sam furrowed her brow. "This is getting serious."
"Why?" asked Ivar.
"Well, first she tosses me across the parallels and when I tell her to leave, she obeys with no inexplicable reason, she doesn't tell me in advance that there was a deformed sentinel running amok and to make matters worse, she's now in violation of our treaty. Things do not bode well for my friend."
"It's a wonder you haven't got rid of her yet," said Ivar.
"Can't. She's an ally, one of the few that I have."
"Ally!" shouted King Fin Varra. "She's a menace! I don't know how you can live with her sense of frugality and…and destructiveness."
Angus raised his brow. "She sounds sweet."
Sam blinked. "If poisoned candied apples was your thing," she said. Angus shrugged.
"Oh, now I've remembered something!" said the king. They all looked down at him. "Before she left, that brat companion of yours said that you would find your way here, Sam. In which case, she told me to tell you that you won't have much longer to spend here."
"Why did she say that?"
The king pursed his lips. "I don't know. She spoke very enigmatically. I can't stand it when others do that."
Rohan nudged Ivar. He rolled his eyes.
"Your majesty," said Sam. "Did she say anything about another sentinel named Marock?"
He sighed. "No, no she didn't. When she spoke - and she did, at great lengths whether I wanted her to or not – she was very vague and gave few names. Of the one you mentioned she did not say. However, she did reference Mider."
"The bad fairy?" Sam asked.
"Yes. She said he had heard of the division amongst the sentinels and having known demons and sentinels, including her for quite some time…."
"Excuse me, did you say Mider knows Ona?"
"Oh, yes, of course. He has been in contact with that overzealous beast of burden for many ages. Why? Has she not told you?"
"Obviously not," said Angus, seeing Sam's utter blank expression.
Sam said, "The reason I ask, sir, is that the village of Kells has been emptied of its people by some serious power. I know Ona has a hand in this some how but I can't be certain. I was hoping you could shed some light on this."
"Yes, well, Mider has had his greasy hands into everything he could find that was powerful. We've all known this." The knights nodded. "Your friend is just another tool he has most likely been using for a long time now. I wouldn't be surprised; however, I cannot tell you for certain because with everything else I was told, I was not given specific details about anything. Good gracious, that thing was annoying!" he spat. "The next time you see that git," he said, pointing up at Sam. "You tell her off for me, you understand?"
"I'm ten steps ahead of you sir," said Sam with up most sincerity. She bowed low again and thanked him for his help. The knights exited with Sam in suit.
When they walked outside, the clouds had darkened and rain was imminent. "We'd better get back soon."
"Boy, he was an angry little pixie," Sam said.
"You should see him when Angus does something stupid," said Ivar. "Like just being there."
"I'm a victim of circumstance," shrugged Angus.
"What do we tell the king?" asked Rohan of Sam.
She blinked. "We tell him we'll get his villagers back."
"But we don't know where they could be or if they're alive," Rohan was saying.
Sam bit her lip. "If I know Ona, we may just have a hostage situation on our hands. And at this point, I'd rather not know her at all."
By dusk, they were soaked to the bone and finally had reentered the castle, now heavily decked with guardsmen on patrol. In the throne room, Deidre sat expectantly by her father, a look of contempt rupturing her face. Garrett stood on the other side of the king. He was a little worse for the ware.
'Please tell me you whipped him good,' thought Rohan as he glanced at Deidre. She looked at him and seemed to nod in response to his thoughts. "Your majesty," he bowed.
"What's the news?" said the king, standing.
"It seems Fin Varra has had a meeting with some sentinels already and they don't seem particularly helpful." He glanced at Sam.
As on cue, she stepped forward and clasped her hands behind her. "There may be a hostage situation, of which I am not certain just yet; however, my sources point to this as the most likely reason for the disappearance of the villagers."
"Hostages?" whispered the king. "Good God."
"I'm sure He's listening," said Sam. Angus shot a look towards her. Though she had lived a phenomenal life, it seemed odd that she hardly showed an interest in religion. It was an abstract idea to her that didn't quite fit her personality and yet when tidings were ill, she referenced God. She was either a hypocrite in order to be polite or she truly meant what she said, in which case she did have something to believe in. 'A lying hypocrite,' he thought with a small smile.
"We will find them, your majesty," said Ivar. "The power that was used could have left strong impressions in the surrounding area. If I'm right, those impressions could help us find where Maeve has taken your villagers."
It was assurances, not guarantees and every one in the room knew this. Still, they were currently without other options. "Yes, yes of course," said the king, waving his head. "Well, start working with what you have. My guardsmen are on patrol tonight but all of you," he said, including his daughter and Prince Garrett in his scan of the room. "Will work tonight. I don't want anyone having a wink of sleep until we have devised some plan."
"Of course, your majesty," said Garrett, walking to stand beside Rohan. This maneuver sent a visible clenching in Rohan's jaw. Sam noted this. Garrett was not an obvious favorite. He interfered too much already in the private lives here. He was just as separated as Sam…but she had managed to charm the knights, a king and his druid, maybe even the princess, all within a day. Garrett must have been here some time before Sam had arrived.
Sam yawned. She went over to the window and glanced outside. Rohan and Angus were just leaving.
With a small smile, Sam headed out of the room and down the hall.
Outside, the air smelled crisp, the added touch of after-rain. It was lukewarm and a gentle fog crept through the trees. Light had been vanishing quickly. When she finally reached the main village, the only light visible was the small fire built by Rohan and Angus. She hesitated. They were not outside so presumably they were in the hut, talking over those scrolls Rohan had presented to the king hours earlier. She walked towards a tree, sat down and rested her head against the wet bark. It felt replenishing to be with nature rather than away from it.
"In 1803 we sailed out to sea,
Out from the sweet town of Derry," she began humming.
"For Australia bound if we didn't all drown
And the marks of our fetters we carried.
In the rusty iron chains we sighed for our wains
As our good wives we left in sorrow.
As the mainsails unfurled our curses we hurled
On the English and thoughts of tomorrow.
Oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry
Oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry.
I cursed them to hell as our bow fought the swell.
Our ship danced like a moth in the firelight.
White horses rode high as the devil passed by
Taking souls to Hades by twilight.
Five weeks out to sea we were now forty-three.
Our comrades we buried each morning.
In our own slime we were lost in time
Endless night without dawning.
Oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry
Oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry.
Van Dieman's land in hell for a man
To live our his life in slavery
When the climate is raw and the gun makes the law.
Neither wind nor rain cares for bravery.
Twenty years have gone by and I've ended me bond
And comrade's ghosts are behind me
A rebel I came and I'll die the same
On the cold winds of night you will find me.
Oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry
Oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry.
She sighed.
"What was that?"
Sam started. Looking up, Angus's head peered over the tree.
She breathed. "Sneak."
"What good thief isn't?" he asked, coming around to stand in front of her.
"I thought you were a former thief." She raised her eyebrows.
He placed his hands on his hips. "Yeah, well, that's just the sort of thing everyone's willing to believe."
She breathed a laugh.
"What?" he said.
" 'Thou shalt not steal.'" She murmured.
"And?" he said.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head back to the tree. "You know your soul is damned to Hell if you steal."
"What is your obsession with religion?" he asked.
"It's not religion. It's common sense. If you do something wrong and you know you're guilty of it, you're just pushing yourself down. Your conscious is your Hell."
He thought for a moment with a hand rubbing his chin. "You know…that's just one thing I can never figure out about you."
She opened one eye. "What?"
"Your faith and your belief."
"Same thing."
"Not necessarily," he said. He sat down next to her. "Your faith in something comes from what you believe is not possible. Your belief in something comes from what you know is true."
"Wow," she breathed. "Did you just make that up?"
He paused. "Actually, yeah."
She punched his shoulder. "Liar."
"If I'm a liar, you're a hypocrite," he laughed.
"Yeah, I know." Her face saddened.
"Why do you put up with it?" he asked after a moment.
"Put up with what?"
"This…all of this hassle and stuff. Why can't you let someone else take your place?"
She looked in his eyes. For the first time, she was caught off guard. The firelight made his eyes glisten. It softened him, made him sincere. She almost caved but caught herself. "Well, why do you put up with being a knight? Why don't you just remain a thief?"
He thought about it. "I can't just leave my armor. How else am I going to attract the maidens?"
"I…don't know," she laughed. Then, they both laughed.
After several minutes had passed, Angus asked, "What was that you were singing?"
"It's a traditional song about some poor bloke from a small town in the Northern Country. He, along with some of his friends, is sent to a place called Australia. The English had turned it into a prison for criminals. Imagine that, an entire country a prison."
"Yeah, I can imagine that," said Angus.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, touching his arm. "I spoke before I thought."
"Nah," he shrugged. "You wouldn't be the first to do so."
"Angus," she asked.
"What?"
"Do you really trust me?"
"Yeah. So?"
He felt her hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes. It felt good. It felt – for lack of a better word – pure. He opened his eyes and turned to look at her. She was smiling…mischievously. "Thanks." She stood up and shook her hair. He looked up at her and felt an immense feeling of attachment towards her. She smiled down at him and then turned around.
He frowned. "Where are you going?"
She tilted her head. "To Derry." Then, she began to hum that same song again.
Angus, smiling, stood, dusted himself and went back to the hut.
