A Place Beyond The Map (14 page)

“Is that what those…nightmares were then? In the forest? Hallucinations?” The Faë nodded.

“Aye, Fog is a very powerful hallucinogen. The mind can only take so much; particularly when the mind is unaccustomed, as yours would be. Like I said, if we hadn’t gotten you back here so quickly it may have been too late.”

Phinnegan felt his fear turn to anger within him and he lashed out at the Faë.

“Well why did you give me this pixie water? Haven’t I had enough hallucinogens?”

The Faë only shrugged his shoulders, walking back to his chair near the foot of the bed.

“Like I said, pixie water has strong healing qualities. It’s a calculated risk. Besides, it’s just like a good night of drinking. On the morrow, sometimes the best thing for you is another drink.”

Phinnegan remembered on more than one occasion when his father had awakened on a Sunday morning after a long night at the pub only to head straight to the cupboard for a dram of whisky.

Thinking of his father reminded Phinnegan of his home. And recalling home only reminded him of how much he missed it. He wondered if his parents were worried about him. How could they not be? Their son had disappeared with no warning and without as much as a trace. He imagined his mother sitting by the fire, her head in her hands as she sobbed. His father stood behind her, his strong hand resting upon her shoulder. They would be devastated. How long had it been?

The sudden realization was that he did not know.

“How long was I…asleep?” he asked, his head lowered as he continued to long for his home and his family. The Faë mumbled to himself as he counted the days.

“Let’s see, one…two…three. Yes, this is the fourth morning after the night that we arrived at Crimson’s. That would be the same night that we were attacked by the Faolchú in the forest.”

Phinnegan felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

“And before that? How long were we in Féradoon? How long since that stone snatched us from Ireland and brought us to…well wherever it is that you are from.”

“We were barely in Féradoon for a night,” the Faë responded. “So I would say four days at the most. And this,” the Faë spread his arm out towards the walls of the room, and Phinnegan assumed he meant to gesture to the world as a whole. “This place has many names. By some it has been called Hy Breasail, by others Tir-nan-Mg. It has been called the Plain of Happiness, the Land of the Living and the Isle of the Wee Folk.” The Faë paused and his brows drew down in annoyance.

“I’m not too fond of that last one. But never mind that. To us Faë, it is simply Home. We need no name to describe our world, for any Faë has only to say that they wish to go Home, and all others know what he means. But to your kind, for those lucky enough to set forth in our world, it is best known as a Place Beyond the Map, for it exists completely outside of your world. So if anyone ever tells you they’ve been to a Place Beyond the Map, you know they really have.”

“How would I know they actually came here?”

“Simple. This is the only place where they would have heard it.”

“Well what if I went back and told someone that name? Wouldn’t they know?”

“Not so fast,” the Faë said. “Did I forget to mention that a person such as yourself cannot utter those words to another person who has not yet been here himself?”

“You did fail to mention that, yes.”

“Ah well, there you have it then. Bit of a security measure, like.”

“Oh.”

Such a short response seemed to perplex Periwinkle.

“What’s the matter, mate? No questions? Not like you, that.”

Phinnegan raised his head briefly to meet the purple eyes of the Faë.

“I want to go home.”

“Ah. That’s it then, isn’t it,” the Faë said, dropping his head and staring at his own lap. He sighed and then spoke quietly.

“About that…”

Phinnegan’s head snapped up, which made him dizzy for a moment, but it passed quickly. Had he heard the Faë’s tone correctly? It sounded…apologetic. He fixed his eyes on the purple-haired crown of the Faë’s head.

“What do you mean ‘about that’? I can go home, can’t I?”

The Faë remained silent for several moments, all the while Phinnegan continued to stare at the top of his head. Phinnegan opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it when he heard the Faë’s quiet voice.

“Yes, of course you can go home….in theory.”

Phinnegan could not restrain himself.

“In theory?!” he exclaimed, his heart racing. “What do you mean ‘in theory’? I want to go home!” His voice had risen to a yell as he spoke, making the silence before the Faë spoke again all the more deafening.

“Well, it’s…err…it’s complicated.” The Faë looked to Phinnegan, spreading his hands apologetically. Phinnegan didn’t know what to say. He wanted more than anything to just go home and now he was being told that
in theory
he could go home, but that it was
complicated
. He felt trapped, stuck in this fairy tale land and the only person who he knew at all was apparently useless.

“We should talk to Crimson,” the Faë said at length, standing up and smoothing the wrinkles from his cream-colored trousers. As always, they were trim and snugly fit, while his purple-colored shirt swished with his movement. The cream colored buttons that ran up the center of the shirt were large and smooth.

“Will he know how to get me home?” Phinnegan asked, hopeful that the other Faë had more ideas than this one.

“He may,” Periwinkle replied, pausing for a moment before continuing. “But like I said, it’s complicated.”

Phinnegan made a move to get himself out of bed but the Faë cautioned him against it.

“No, mate. You stay here. I will bring him to you. No sense in you running all about and weakening yourself even further,” Periwinkle said as he left the room.

Despite the nagging tug in the pit of his stomach as he longed for home, Phinnegan was able to distance himself from that feeling long enough to take in his surroundings. The sweet, musky smell remained heavy in the room. He noticed several large bouquets of red flowers in various places around the room. The room itself was a simple square with a large window on both the left and right side. The bed in which Phinnegan rested was against one wall, and the only door in and out of the room was directly across on the far wall. The ceiling was high and was plastered a cream color like the walls. Thick, darkly colored exposed wood beams crossed each other on the ceiling. From what he could see, the floor was a similar dark colored wood. With the exception of the strange, sweet smell, the room looked like any that he would have seen back home. But of course, he wasn’t at home.

Several more minutes passed before the door across from Phinnegan’s bed opened and swung inward. Periwinkle entered first, his light purple eyes meeting Phinnegan’s for a brief moment before he looked away. He was followed by a second Faë, who Phinnegan surmised must be Crimson. He had a pale face, much like Periwinkle, but it appeared even more so because he was dressed in all black. His hair was a rich red and this Phinnegan recognized from the forest, the Faë who had carried him from near death in the woods to the home and bed where he now rested.

A flicker of movement behind Crimson drew Phinnegan’s attention, and he was startled to see a short, squat creature with dark skin, large ears and a large nose. Phinnegan thought that it was one of the ugliest things he had ever seen. The small creature carried a large book, several inches thick and obviously very heavy. The creature swayed to and from beneath the weight of the book, trying its best to follow in the footsteps of the Faë. When the Faë stopped in front of the bed, the creature also stopped, but Phinnegan saw it grimace beneath the weight of the book.

“Crimson,” the purple-haired Faë said as he stopped at the foot of Phinnegan’s bed, turning back to speak to the red-haired Faë. “Allow me to properly introduce our guest, Phinnegan Qwyk, of Ireland.

The red-haired Faë stepped forward and bowed in Phinnegan’s direction.

“Pleasure to meet you. I am called Crimson Grouse, renowned scholar, sage and entertainer extraordinaire. My home and my person at your service, of course.”

“Sage?” Periwinkle scoffed with a laugh. “Pulled that one right out of your arse didn’t you?”

“Too much? I’ve been playing with that one. Trying to find a title that suits me and my, er, talents.”

“Well keep looking.”

The two Faë shared a laugh. Phinnegan cleared his throat and the two turned their attention back to him.

“Pleased to meet you as well,” Phinnegan said, pushing himself up and forward on the bed.  “Are you his brother then?”

“What?” Crimson said, a puzzled look on his face.

“When you rescued us, you called him brother. You said ‘bráthair’.”

“Ah, know a bit of Gaelic, do we?” Crimson said with a smirk. “But I am afraid you have confused bráthair, fraternal, with
deartháir, a brother of blood.”

“Oh,” Phinnegan said. “I never knew there were two words for ‘brother’. What was the rest then?”

“The rest?
Bíodh
misneach
agat
? It means ‘take heart’; and so you would have had you known such a cunning Faë was your rescuer!”

“I see. Well, can you get me home?” The red-haired Faë smiled, displaying perfect, white teeth.

“You don’t waste any time, do you? Right to the point. I like it. Far too much time is wasted on silly pleasantries and talking about the weather. Speaking of which, you have missed three beautiful days while you have been in your Fog-induced state. Clear blue skies and warm sunshine.”

Crimson paused and cleared his throat.

“But I suppose none of that matters. You just want to go home. Although, I cannot fathom why anyone would want to leave such a place as this,” he paused waving his arms around the room, gesturing to their surroundings, assumedly meaning the outside world and not this plain room. “But I understand that your circumstances are not such that you can bring yourself to enjoy our world. You want to go home. Yes, definitely understandable.

“Yes, I would. Can you send me home?” Phinnegan asked, the fact that his hopes all rested on what Crimson would tell him was plain in his voice.

“Well, it’s a tricky thing, sending you home that is. I trust that Periwinkle has warned you thus?”

“He said it was complicated.”

“Truly,” Crimson responded with a grimace.

“Why?”

“That’s easy enough. You – as in a human – are not meant to come to our world. Thus, the way to get back is not so easy.”

Phinnegan thought about the words of the Faë for a few moments before responding.

“Why can’t I go back the way I came? Through the wishing stone. Can’t we just do that?”

“Not that simple I’m afraid.” Crimson reached into his pocket and pulled out the smooth, white stone that had started Phinnegan’s abduction to this world.

“This stone,” he flipped the stone to Phinnegan who caught it reflexively, “isn’t what brought you here. Vermillion’s thugs brought you here, albeit while using the stone as a sort of locator. But on its own, it does not have the power to take you back to your world. It probably cannot even take you anywhere within our own after what Periwinkle did with it.”

“You mean by bringing us here to, umm, wherever it is that we are now?” Phinnegan asked. He suspected that whatever Periwinkle had done to get them out of Féradoon had been very difficult.