Corways was alive with the sound of music. Granted, it was still just practice-session music, but notes were being played and instruments were being put to the task. Rory rubbed his head in frustration at the horrific sounds blasting from the band. He was the director of this band of misfits, and he only had one more week until the performance at the Midsummer Celebration.
“How’s it going, love?” asked his sweetheart, Biddy.
“Don’t you hear ’em, Bid?” He rolled his eyes and covered his ears at the squawking and honking of the group. “It’s going like that!”
Biddy wrapped Rory up in a hug. “There, there, Rory. You’ll have them whipped into shape in no time.”
Dorian walked up behind the duo and put her hands on their shoulders. “I sure hope so, because we don’t want people to run screaming from the festival,” she joked.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence!” said Rory, exasperated.
“I’m kidding. It’ll be fine.” Dorian smiled at Biddy and gave her a wink.
“I’m surprised to see you at your natural height,” Rory observed. He never could figure out why the Leprechaun Queen usually chose to be at human height. He knew it was one of the inherited privileges of a Leprechaun royal, but she seemed to prefer it. She was his friend, though, and he would accept her at any height. Rory turned back to the band and was greeted with a ridiculous sight that pretty much summed up his rehearsal experience. “Colym! That horn is not a hat!”
“What are you talking about? It’s me finest bowler,” sang the old Leprechaun in-between hiccups.
“Looks like Colym has been in the pub a wee bit early this day,” laughed Biddy. She turned back to Dorian. “How’s the rest of the plans coming along?”
Dorian nodded. “Not too bad. Griffin has been delivering the invitations, and I know that several of our cousins have already agreed to come. I haven’t heard anything from Artie in a while.”
Biddy waved off the concern. “I’m sure he’s about, either here or in the spirit realm.”
Dorian thought so too, but her old friend never missed a Midsummer Celebration. Even when the spirits had withdrawn themselves from the world, Gorgoch always found time to visit.
“And what of Brendan and Lizzie? Are they coming?” asked Biddy.
“That depends on how quick they can come and go, but I’m working on it,” replied Dorian.
“Come on, people! The rhythm really isn’t this hard!” shouted Rory.
“We’ll leave you to your task,” laughed Biddy as she walked off to see to the food preparation. Biddy turned her attention to Dorian as they left Rory. “How are you working on it?”
Dorian knew that her body language spoke of her lack of confidence in her plan, but she had to try something. It was very important to her that Brendan and Lizzie be there at the celebration. “I’m going to visit Wardicon. I know that he’ll be coming to the party, but he may be able to help me with this travel situation.”
“How’s that?” Biddy asked, linking her arm with Dorian’s.
“It’s just a hunch I have. Something my dad used to talk about, that’s all.” She kicked a small stone as they walked. “Could be nothing.”
“Aye, but it could be something.”
Dorian enjoyed her friend’s positive attitude. Even though she was a Leprechaun, she had never felt luckier.
…
“Toga! Toga! Toga!”
“Uh, Ken, you realize this is just a mixer with a couple of other houses, right? It’s not toga-themed,” stated Brendan. “You’re not even dressed in a toga.”
Ken stopped jumping up and down long enough to stare at Brendan. Other students passed the pair quickly, trying to avoid whatever crazy thing Ken might try. “I know that, but what’s wrong with a little wishful thinking?”
Brendan shrugged. “I guess nothing.”
“Well, come on, dude!” Ken shouted with his arms held high. “The party waits for no man!”
Brendan heaved out a heavy breath and followed Ken into the Phi Delta sorority house with a nervous stomach.
…
Lizzie was so tired. Her mixed martial arts’ training was brutal and having to spar with Frank Wheeler was taxing. He was a big guy that was too bulky to be quick, but what he lacked in speed he made up for in strength. Frank was a little older than she was, but not by much. She had met him back before she and her family left for Ireland last summer. She had decided to take a mixed-martial arts’ class on a whim, but it turns out that the training had paid off in many ways on that adventure. Frank had been the first one to greet her when she arrived at the gym. He was the clichéd version of handsome being tall and dark to boot. He had mocha colored skin, a powerful frame, and enchanting brown eyes. She had to admit that she noticed him right away.
She tossed her gym bag on the ground by the door as she dragged her feet into the living room. Her father was sitting on the edge of his seat studying some notebook. He didn’t even acknowledge her presence until she called his name.
“Huh?” he said, looking up from his book. “How was training, dear?”
“Hard. I am so hungry!” Her stomach growled to accentuate the point.
“Well, dinner is in the fridge—roast and potatoes.”
Lizzie heated up her food in the microwave and plopped down at the kitchen table. She shoveled her dinner into her mouth with great satisfaction. She had used so much energy that she wasn’t sure she could have walked one more step without some sort of sustenance.
She rinsed her bowl and placed it in the dishwasher. “I’m going to take a shower and then get started on the stupid summer reading my English teacher is making me do.”
Oscar mumbled a reply, but Lizzie was busy climbing the stairs one painful step at a time. It was like the stairs had all of a sudden become steeper, and the pull from the Earth’s gravity had increased ten-fold, making the climb a gargantuan undertaking. She used the banister to her advantage and pulled her body upwards until she reached the top step.
“Oh, man, that sucked!” she huffed.
She stood for a few moments catching her breath when she happened to look over at the creepy stone box. There was something different about it, something odd.
She picked it up to give it a good once-over. It was strange. The box felt lighter and maybe a little less evil. It still creeped her out, but it was a different kind of creeped out.
She ran her fingers over the markings on the side of the box and held it closer to her face. She wanted to know what the symbols were. They were faded and worn, but her fingers traced around them anyway. The box started to hum. It was low, but steady. She had to shake her head and blink her eyes because the symbols began to tremble and slide. They softly bumped into one another and ricocheted back.
“I must be delirious,” she laughed as she set the old stone box back on the table. “I need a shower and about a hundred years of sleep.”
She shuffled off to the bathroom and closed the door while the symbols rearranged themselves. The box hummed until the symbols were in the correct places, and then it rested.
…
Dorian’s hair whipped around her in frantic fashion as Griffin stretched his massive wings high above the fields of Ireland. Riding a griffin required her to be at human height if she didn’t wish to be blown off his back and fall thousands of feet to her death. Thankfully, it was the middle of the night so Dorian didn’t worry about any onlookers discovering her. So, if she did fall, at least no one would witness it. She pushed Griffin on until she spotted the edge of the Rowen Forest where the Sidhes lived.
Griffin landed gracefully in the grass and tucked his wings in to his sides. Dorian dismounted and fished out a dried beef treat to reward Griffin for the nice flight. The griffin ambled over to a soft patch of grass beneath a large oak tree and promptly laid down.
Dorian stood patiently, but the wait was dragging on, so she pulled her cell phone out and saw that she had a missed call from Brendan. She had meant to return his call earlier, but she was so busy running her village and planning the celebration that she had lost track of time. She was hopeful that she would be able to call him with some good news after her meeting with King Wardicon. That was, if the king ever showed up.
“Beautiful night, aye?” sang a voice from the tree tops.
“It is,” Dorian said, putting her phone away.
Wardicon fluttered his wings and floated down to eye level where he hovered gracefully. “What did you wish to see me about at this late hour, my dear?”
“I do apologize for calling on you, especially in the middle of the night, but I didn’t feel like it would be a safe trip to make in the daylight.”
Wardicon glanced over at the massive griffin slumbering on the ground and agreed. “That makes sense. What can I do for you?”
“My father used to tell me stories about different clans that could travel anywhere they wanted. He described it as a magical type of transportation, but he never really explained it. I assume that he’s not talking about flying on a plane, or a griffin, or dialing on a ship,” she began. “I was wondering if you knew about this type of magical travel and if so, does it still exist?”
Waridcon nodded. “I do believe the travel exists, but it hasn’t been used in centuries, at least not to my knowledge. I’m not sure it’s even safe to try.”
“How does one use this travel? Where is it located?”
Wardicon motioned Dorian over to a log where he landed and she sat. “I think that you need to hear the story of the Megaliths of the Druids.”
Dorian thought that she may have heard of this group before but she wasn’t certain. “Who?”
Wardicon settled into a comfortable position, feeling right at home as a storyteller, and he began to weave his story.
“Long ago, before the humans had evolved past much more than cavemen, there was a sophisticated tribe of humans that made these islands their homes. They dabbled in the dark arts, prayed to gods and goddesses, and studied the Earth like no man had before. It’s said that a particularly powerful god looked upon these pious people and thought they deserved to learn what they sought.”
Dorian’s eyes widened. “What did they seek?”
“It’s hard to know the truth about that. Some of our historians say that this tribe sought wisdom, others power, but I say they sought both. Furthermore, I’d say they attained both.”
“Who were these people?”
Wardicon gave his attention to the stars as he collected his thoughts. “People have referred to them as Druids. They have appeared in folklore and poetry, but the humans who write about such things don’t really know them. The Druids left humanity when the god blessed them with gifts. They are still among us—too close for my liking.”
“Where are they, Wardicon?” asked Dorian.
“Your boyfriend killed one last year, dear cousin.”
Recognition must have shown in her face. “The Druids are the witches and wizards?”
“So far as legend tells.”
“Okay,” she said, allowing the idea to soak in. “But what about the transportation?”
Wardicon nodded knowingly. “I think you are going to have to seek out a witch or a wizard to find that answer. I have no direct knowledge of how it’s done.”
“I must admit,” Dorian said with a grimace. “They are not my favorite people to be around.”
Wardicon chuckled. “I have to agree.” He thought back to the treatment he had received at the hands of the evil witch, Morna. “But luckily for you, I know of a married couple who shunned the actions of their brethren and chose unity with the magical clans instead.”
“Where can I find them?” she asked excitedly.
Wardicon waved his hand through the air and a piece of parchment appeared. He caused it to float to Dorian who took it.
Dorian glanced down at the names, address, and mapped route. “Brett and Vivian Blanch of Leeds, England.”
“Aye, they are friends of mine and they may have the answer you seek.”
Dorian bowed in reverence to the Sidhe King who floated up and lifted her chin. “My dear, you saved my life, it is I that owe you respect.” The king bowed low.
Dorian couldn’t imagine that the great Wardicon owed her anything, but she was grateful for the honor. Dorian mounted Griffin and the pair took to the sky, leaving the King of the Sidhes to his song and beloved forest.
…
“This party is so bangin’!” shouted Ken over the constant thumping of dance music.
Brendan only nodded, but to be honest about it, he really didn’t have anything to compare it to. He watched Ken dance, or at least attempt to dance, while everyone else cleared the way so as to not take an elbow or a knee during Ken’s flailing. Brendan kept backing up until he bumped into someone.
He turned. “I’m sorry,” he said as he recognized his victim.
“It’s no problem, Brendan,” Meghan said, smiling sweetly.
Brendan didn’t want to notice, but Meghan was looking especially hot. She really wasn’t wearing anything special, but there was something about her that spoke directly to him, a familiarity that he just couldn’t place.
“So, are you enjoying the party?” he asked.
“I suppose. I really haven’t been to any parties until tonight,” she replied, taking a drink from a plastic cup.
Brendan shrugged. “Me either.”
“Your friend is some kind of dancer.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Brendan laughed as Ken made what was supposed to be a sexy face but looked more like a constipated one.
“What are you studying here at Syracuse?” he asked the Welsh beauty, expecting her to say supermodeling, but he was doubtful that was a real major.
“I’ve come here to study medicine.” She raised an eyebrow at Ken’s version of the robot. “Do you think he will ever get tired?”
“Man, I hope so,” Brendan chuckled and took a drink of his soda. “I’m going to be a doctor too.”
“Hmmm. Maybe we’ll be seeing a whole lot more of each other then.”
Brendan wanted to say that he hoped that they did, and he wanted to say that he hoped that they didn’t. He was confused. His brain felt foggy when he tried to think about the situation, to think about Dorian.
Brendan looked into Meghan’s eyes. “I should tell you that I have a girl-”
“Meghan, come on, girl!” shouted a blonde from a few feet away.
“Oh, that’s my CHH sister… uh, I can’t remember her name yet.” The girl was dragging Meghan out of the room by the arm. “Talk to you later, Brendan.”
Brendan was so caught up between watching Meghan leave and avoiding Ken’s limbs that he didn’t notice the vibration of his cell phone in his pocket.
…
Dorian left a message on Brendan’s voicemail and tucked her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She urged Griffin to push on to Corways, attempting to reach her village before the sun’s light graced the lush green lands of Ireland.
She had an appointment she would have to keep with Brett and Vivian Blanch of Leeds, but Corways housed someone that she wanted to take along with her to meet the necromancers, namely Biddy. Dorian smiled at the prospect of convincing her friend to ride atop Griffin. That was going to be no easy task. Her smile faded quickly when her thoughts drifted back to Brendan. Why did he hardly ever answer his phone? Was the distance between them too much?