Wet Stones and Old Places
Fiona mused as they drove. It did not seem all that probable that they would find much by backtracking. This wayward westerly wind did not seem like the best of ideas to her, yet they had determined to at least track down the major sites that Ian had listed in his journal as tied to the Sidhe. The first was a Cathair, also known as a Lis or Dun. For this they would be traveling back toward Poulnabrone for they needed to cross over to the Aran Isle to the fortress of Dun Aenghuis. She did not expect to find anything here. It was really a place of war and of man. She did not see how the Sidhe would choose to make this a lasting home. But the books said it was a possibility, and so they were to go. She wanted to stay behind on the shore. To pass the day at Poulnabrone. She knew it was unlikely, but she had hopes of another time in the stars. And if she couldn't have that, perhaps a brief glimmer of hope or a glimpse of unexpected knowledge that would aid her in this bizarre quest. They had long since given up on the harsh music favored by the boys and settled into the more peaceful sounds delivered by the music that swelled from Roary's selections. He was an odd man. His being here was rather odd actually, Fiona mused. He seemed so completely caught up in all that was happening, yet she couldn't really figure out why. What was so pressing to him in this matter? How was it personal to him? Other than his prior dealings with Aiofe, what compelled him to abandon his shop, his life, to take on this absurd quest? For absurd this quest must seem to anyone who was not actually in the midst of it. She tried to ease her shoulders down from their tightended and scrunched position. It was a bad habit she knew, that screwing up of the shoulders and curling in of the blades. It might feel that you were protecting yourself in some meaningless way, but all it really caused was a pain in the neck and eventually a migraine.
As they neared Doolin, she launched into her explanation for why they should split up and cover more territory. She was surprised when neither Lin nor Roary even questioned her decision. Roary just continued on to drop her off at her destination. They arranged a time to meet and promised to keep their cellulars on vibrate so they could communicate.
Then they were off, and she was left , alone. Alone. That was a very large word. She smiled briefly remembering something Ian had said when he was just four years old. He had come to her and said, "Nana, I know a big and little word," beaming with pride. She had said, "How is it possible for it to be both at the same time?" "Trust me, it just is. Do you want to know it?" "Of course," she had replied, not having any idea what to expect. When he had looked at her with his pure blue eyes and said very solemnly and clearly, "My word is Love," she had simply looked at him as if a sunbeam had turned into a shaft of pure gold right in front of her eyes. He had such a beautiful soul that boy, yes, he most certainly did. Now she had both a big and small word too, and hers was achingly less beautiful, but still potent, hers was, Alone. If she was thankful for anything at this time, it was that the boys were at least together. Perhaps Old King Lir had felt that same consolation, yet at the same time it left him completely bereft and naked to the abrasions of that word himself. Tired of contemplating, Fiona moved on to purchase her ticket and begin her investigations of the site.
The wind held a sharp chill on the vessel that carried them over to the Isle. Lin did not even contemplate brushing Roary away when he pulled her into the shelter of his arms and tucked her under his chin, blocking the majority of the gusts. She actually just savored the small feeling of safety it gave her, being braced and embraced by this man. Strange how he seemed to have her rythym down so well. There was a sort of click now that they were not at each other's throat that was almost too easy to slide into. It felt wonderful and yet made her a bit edgy just because it felt too easy. She felt a tug of wind on her hair and tucked a stray strand back behind an ear. Absently wiping a bit of wet from the corner of an eye, she pushed deeper into the cocoon he offered and gave herself over to the safety and warmth. There would be time enough for unease later.
They made land and he released her. Somehow the distance felt more wrong than right, but there was no way to change that without breaching walls that should not be breached, probably ever, so Lin said nothing. By mutual and unspoken assent they made their way to a tea shop and found something steamy to sip while they looked at the map. The Isle was not excessively big, and clearly the fortress was the major attraction. There was a bus that would take them to the ticket access to the fort. They made their way through the village noting the shops that sold the local goods, mostly sweaters and the like that the Isle was famous for and a few bed and breakfasts. The bus dropped them off and they paid the two-euro fee per visitor. The hike to Dun Aenghuis was steeply uphill and took roughly half an hour. As they toured the grounds they soon learned that this was not the military fortress that Fiona had assumed. It was a place of Druidic rites and religious ritual. They also found that a neolithic tomb was near the Lis itself. They wandered around the spacious grounds until, finally, Lin stopped. She was standing there, staring back at the mainland. She just stood for several moments, the wind tugging her hair and sending wild tendrils to dance behind her. Then she turned to him and asked, "Did they light the fires here?" He looked at her puzzled. They had not been talking about fires, he had no idea where the question came from. Then he looked at her again and he noticed that she seemed a bit farther away than usual, as if she was caught in a dream or locked in a memory. "I believe that the Druids here used to light the bonfires for the seasonal festivals, yes," he replied cautiously.
"I don't think we will find what we need here," said Lin. "I don't think our Sidhe were consulting much with the Druids. I think they were a lot less tame than that, older and more of the earth and the old ways than even the Druids were." Than she turned and walked away.
When Roary caught up with her, she was standing still beside the wall, the camera in her hand completely forgotten. He turned her toward him. Her face was so pale as to be almost ashen, lips bearing a decided tinge of blue. She was freezing, but it was not that cold out. When she breathed, the breath hung in the air with the cold she expelled from her lungs. Something was definitely not right. He gathered her to him and held her. He needed to get her somewhere else and quickly. He noted that it seemed most of the people were heading back toward the exit. It was time to leave; even the heartiest of the tourists seem to be winding their way back down the incline. He needed to warm Lin up before they started the chilling journey back. Just wanting to get her out of the wind for a moment, he turned her toward the opening in the Dun. He wondered if he could find anyone still there, any help at all.
A few kids, college-aged it looked like, were just leaving. One of them, noticing his apparent alarm, approached and stopped to ask Roary what was gong on. Roary noted that Lin seemed overly cold. The young man smiled, mumbled something about never leaving home without "it" and handed him a small flask. Roary opened it and gave it a quick sniff. It smelled like whiskey, and rather good whiskey at that. He asked the boy if he could buy it from him. The boy named a price, and Roary quickly paid it. The student looked at him curiously as the price was clearly over the top, but hurried off before he could change his mind.
Roary nodded a quick thank-you as the group moved off and took a silent Lin by the hand, urging her further into the curve of the fort and out of the wind. He took a sip from the flask. It tasted fine, not the best, but certainly not awful enough that she would choke on it. He pressed the flask to her lips and she took a small sip. Her eyes flashed a brief warning as her throat convulsed on the heat of the liquor. She sputtered and shook. He reached out and held her. What was he doing? They were going to get stuck here on the island over night and whatever had gotten to Lin was here. Why wasn't he rushing to get her away from this place? He turned to make for the exit, tugging her behind him. He eased her out the small doorway and walked with her as if she were china. She said not a word as they made their way in a stumble-footed progress down the incline and back to the gate. What had taken a half hour to climb took almost twice as much to travel in reverse. One would have thought that going down would have been faster. But Lin kept stopping and turning back, as if she were somehow linked to the Dun.
When they made it to the outside wall and the ticket area, his hopes were dashed. They had missed the last bus. There was no way they would be making it to the town in time for the ferry back to the mainland. He pulled her over into the relative safety of the ticket house frame and poured a bit more whiskey into her unwilling mouth. "Well, apparently that type of Irish fire put a dent in the cool of yer innards," he said with a smile that did not reach his eyes.
Lin looked up blankly. "What is that stuff and what are you talking about, and while you are at it, why are we still here?"
Roary looked more than a bit bemused. "We are still here because you were a frigid mummy for about the last hour and we have missed our lovely bus and I believe our boat back to civilization. Don't you remember turning blue and silent on me?"
Lin stared at him. "No. And just what is my mother supposed to do while we are lazing about over here?"
"I don't think you quite get the situation. Your ma is likely to find a place to sleep just fine, and a warm one at that. We how'er' will have to make do wi' what is here. I doubt there's much to recommend, unless ye think ye have it in ye to hike it into town," he fairly snorted at her.
Lin ignored his indignant comments and flipped open her phone. She had a few bars anyway. She called Fiona, no answer. She left her a text message explaining the situation and that she should taxi to Doolin for the night; they would call when they got to shore in the morning. Lin looked up at Roary, tears in her eyes, "We really don't have time to do this, you know. We need to be finding whatever it takes to bring my boys home."
He broke when he saw her like that. He held the flask out to her and kneeled. "This is not the best tastin' but it will warm ye a bit," he offered. Lin took it from him and gingerly swallowed a few sips.
"We need to figure out what we are doin' now," he said.
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