Finn pulled his oar out of the water and swung it at the back of the creature attacking Maeve. The merrow turned its face—a disturbing jumble of a lion and a fish—and surveyed Finn from the side of its eye. It backhanded the paddle out of Finn’s hand and sliced his cheek with a forearm swipe.

  It was the opportunity Maeve needed. She shoved the creature with her own paddle, held it at arm’s length with her left arm and then planted her scian in the merrow’s chest up to the knife’s hilt.

  The dying creature fell backwards before Maeve could pull her knife free. A bump knocked her off balance and she tipped after the merrow.

  Finn pushed upward and threw a shoulder into Maeve’s stomach and wrapped his left arm around her, arresting her momentum. Her grip on the knife kept it from joining her fallen foe in the water.

  Fergal brought down his poleaxe behind them with a grunt. It struck the last remaining merrow attached to their torn currach.

  “Thanks,” Maeve said as Finn stood up in front of her. She dabbed a bit of blood from the two slashes on his cheek and then looked down at her tunic. “You bled on me,” she said with a sigh.

  “You’re welcome,” Finn said. He showed her a smile that he knew would annoy her. “For both things. Where are we going now?”

  Maeve raised her right hand and pointed a finger over the bow without looking away from Finn. “That way.”

  Finn’s shoulders sunk. “And where does that lead?”

  “Hy-Brasil, if we’re lucky.”

  “But you don’t know for sure.”

  “That bleedin’ merrow knocked me over in such a manner that I think I unintentionally changed our course.”

  “No more jokes,” Niall said. “Take us to Hy-Brasil.”

  “I can’t,” Maeve said.

  “Maeve, we’re taking on water!” Niall said. “We need to—”

  “I’m fully aware of our state, sir,” Maeve said. “I can feel my toes freezing in the water, same as you. I told the boat to take us to ‘the portal.’”

  “The portal to where?” Finn asked.

  “No idea,” Maeve said, “but there’s a brave chance that my non-specific command means that we’re going to the closest one. Now we just have to keep afloat long enough to get there and hope it’s the same place Siobhan’s headed.”

  Fergal sat and started bailing out the water with nothing more than his massive hands pressed together.

  Finn stepped to the stern and fed his legs through the gap between the safety rope and the rear seat.

  “Lad, what are you doing?” Niall asked.

  “Trying to keep us afloat,” Finn said, “and perhaps helping us reach our destination faster.” He lifted his hands above his head and aimed them at the water behind their currach. “Gála nert.”

  The stern lifted a few inches. Less water poured through the rips in the hide-covered hull.

  “I don’t believe it,” Niall said. “This might actually work.”

  “Sure, but for how long?” Finn asked. His spell weakened to nothing and the boat lowered. He brought his hands high to cast another.

  “Long enough, it would seem,” Maeve said. “I think this island here is where we’re headed. Look.”

  “How can you be sure?” Fergal asked.

  “Two reasons,” Maeve said. “This island chain is thinning, and another suitable island escapes even my vision.”

  Something on their starboard side caught her attention.

  “The second?”

  “If this island doesn’t have the portal, we won’t reach the one that does. That is not an option.” She pointed her chin and Finn. “Do what you can to keep us above water. I’ll be scouting for landing spots.”

  Finn knew sílrad magic was a finite resource. In any given area, a single plane could provide so much energy to another. Once drained of energy, a magic user would have to wait until that specific plane in that specific area had reached equilibrium with its surrounding area. Fortunately for Finn, his boat was on the move. The availability of planar energy wasn’t an issue.

  There was but one source of energy he needed to mind: his own. A ritual that required circular hand motions was ideal for situations like these, times when magic needed to be sustained and energy conserved. However, the spell that required to keep the currach afloat required more force. Finn needed to shove the wind from his hands both to boost the craft’s speed and depress the water level near the rear of the boat. His arms trembled near the end of each cast. The wind he pushed may as well have been a laden merchant cart for the strain it placed on his body.

  In this moment, he needed Siobhan. She’d keep him going. She could alternate with him and push the wind while he rested. He focused on all the minor events that led to their riding in different boats. Maeve’s refusal to ride with Ciara. Siobhan’s decision to keep the Ciara close. The unorthodox relationship Ciara had with her captor. Had it not been for these things, he would have been in Siobhan’s boat, and the two of them would have figured it out. The group would be intact.

  He let his mind slip away in anger. It helped fuel him during that mile until they passed through the lagoon and landed ashore. He collapsed into the rear seat while the other three hopped into the water and dragged the shredded boat onto shore.

  “Fair play, sir,” Fergal said with a pat on Finn’s back. “Mind if I carry your gear for a bit? It’s the least I can do.”

  “Are you sure?” Finn asked. “All my gear is soaked.”

  Fergal smiled. “So is mine. It’ll be in good company.”

  “Thanks, Fergal.”

  Finn spun his body and slid out of his seat onto the wet gravel. He shook his head and arms and trudged up the hill after his crew.

  There was not a blade of grass to be found on this island, let alone a flower, shrub or tree. Once clear of the beach, Finn found nothing more than a series of ponds surrounding a sizable lough in the center of the isle.

  “I need to refresh my water,” Maeve said. “Give me your skins.”

  The three men tossed their waterskins at her, and she walked toward one of the larger ponds.

  “What now?” Fergal asked. “I didn’t want to say anything to Maeve, but there aren’t many places on this island to hide a portal.”

  Niall rubbed his beard. “I don’t know, Fergal. There’s—”

  “—Finn!” Maeve shouted. “Come here!”

  Finn and Niall traded confused looks before Finn jogged over to speak with Maeve.

  “What happened?” Finn asked.

  “I can’t fill any of the skins,” she said. “Look.”

  She dipped her water skin toward the water but her hand never broke the surface of the pond. Finn squatted next to her and touched the water with two fingers.

  “That feels like glass,” Finn said, “only wet, like it’s coated in morning dew.”

  “That’s a trick of the plane, is it not?” Niall asked. “Like the heavy ocean and strange fires?”

  “I’m not so sure,” Finn said. “Everyone, split up and test the other ponds. As many as you can. Call out if you get one that isn’t topped with glass.”

  Finn walked past the ring of ponds and stood over the larger lough. The water rippled and flowed in ways that the ponds did not. Finn could see several feet below the surface of the water. No fish or flora, just a glint of something purple in the center. He turned and checked two nearby ponds. He couldn’t see further than two inches into the shallowest pond.

  “Anything?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” Niall said. “They’re all the same.”

  “What are you thinking?” Maeve asked.

  “The lough is the only thing here not covered by a sheet of glass,” Finn said.

  Maeve threw her hands up. “And that means?”

  “If I remember correctly,” Finn said, “some lakes were supposed to double as a portal to the Otherworld.”

  “These lakes wouldn’t happen to lead to Tír Tairnigire, would they?” Niall asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” Finn said. “This one leads to Tír n-Aill—no, hang on. Tír fo Thuinn.”

  “Do you know how to get us to Tír Tairnigire from there?” Maeve asked.

  “I do not,” Finn said. “Nor do I know how to get to Tír Tairnigire from where we’re standing.”

  “You’re asking us to leap into a different Otherworld than our friends with no plan to reach them or return home.”

  “We could wait for them here,” Fergal said. “It’s likely that they’re already on their way.”

  “We can’t be sure of that,” Maeve said. “Rescuing us would mean several trips through merrows and giants. We can’t control what they’ll do any more than they can control what we’ll do. Siobhan will stick to the plan, for lack of a better option, and trust us to get to her.”

  Finn smiled.

  “But I don’t have to tell you that,” Maeve said to him.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “You do not,” Finn said.

  “How does it work?” she asked.

  “We jump in that lough,” Finn said. “Swim toward the purple yoke at the bottom of it and follow my lead.”

  “Works for me,” said Fergal.

  “Now the bad news,” Finn said. “The swim will ruin what few rations that survived our trip at the bottom of our boat. Also, we’ll need to carry everything into the water with us.”

  “Aside from the food, of course,” Maeve said.

  “Aside from the food,” Finn said with a nod.

  Niall stepped back and looked toward the currach. “You heard the man,” he said. “Let’s grab our things.”

  The group donned their armor to reduce the load their arms would carry.

  “Sure look, we’ll reach the bottom of the lough quickly wearing these,” Niall said with a smirk.

  “Deep breaths,” Finn said. “Once we go under, we can’t resurface until we’ve crossed over. We might have to swim our way out on the other side.”

  Fergal’s chin dipped to his chest. His eyes shifted between his friends and the water.

  “Fergal, are you alright?” Maeve asked.

  “If I’m being honest,” Fergal said, “I’ve never swum before.”

  “Never?” she asked.

  “Look at me,” he said. “There aren’t too many places I’ve been where my head’s underwater.”

  Maeve clapped Fergal’s arm, jingling the links on his hauberk. “You’ve got me there,” she said. “Keep your legs straight while you wave them in small kicks. Use your free arm to heave yourself past the water under you. Niall and I will be there if you need us.”

  Fergal breathed deeply and nodded at Maeve.

  “We’re ready,” Niall said.

  “Grand,” Finn said. He pushed into the lake until the water was up to hips. He turned back to the crew. “Don’t keep me waiting now.”

  With two big strides forward, Finn left his feet and dipped his head below the surface. The frigid waters of Mag da Cheonn surrounded his entire body for the first time, and he was unprepared. His body jerked and his mouth opened. A few bubbles of air escaped. He turned to check the others’ progress. The surface of the water held a purple tinge.

  Then it grew opaque and hardened.

  I’ve stranded them! Finn thought. How am I supposed to carry on by my—

  Niall’s brogues stepped into the lake, creating a glow where his ankles met the surface of the water. Fergal and Maeve followed close behind. What surface water came in contact with their bodies glowed purple as well. When all three heads were below the surface Finn turned back to find the object that had caught his attention from the shore.

  Finn spotted a depression in the middle of the lake bed. It was three feet deep at its edge, dropping to fifteen feet at the center, and it formed a circle fifteen feet wide. A red sphere, six feet in width, swirled in the middle of the crater, floating several feet above the bed.

  This portal differed from the one they used in Iceland. Light swirled within it, and its surface quivered at certain points. Finn pushed towards it and brought his hand within an inch of its surface. Warmth.

  Is it creating heat? Finn wondered. It’s not showing my hand’s reflection.

  Finn touched it. An unseen force tugged on his hand as if it were leading him down a street. His finger tingled but not so much that he needed to recoil his hand. We’ll need to get Fergal out of the water soon, he reminded himself. With that thought, he closed his eyes and kicked his legs. Into the portal he went.

  Several waves of sensation overtook Finn in the second he spent inside the sphere. The unseen force pulled on his body—first his hand, then his head and shoulders, his torso, on down to his feet. Something squeezed across his body in the same manner, compressing him so tightly the air nearly escaped his mouth and lungs. At the moment he started to worry whether the compression would cease, a force jerked him backward, relenting only when his body felt a new version of damp.

  Aside from being inside a lake, everything surrounding him had changed. The earth pulled at his feet instead of his stomach. The water was warmer. What little bits entered his mouth tasted different. A new color of light pierced the water’s surface. Little bits of seaweed extended from the lake bed.

  Finn shifted his weight to the side and waited for the others. Niall appeared first. He whipped his head in several directions until he saw Finn and then waved his hand in a beckoning gesture.

  Fergal burst from the orb. He pressed his free hand against his mouth and kicked his legs in every direction. By the time Finn reached him, Maeve emerged and immediately grabbed his belt.

  Finn dipped his head under Fergal’s right arm, and with Niall under his left, the trio kicked and clawed at the water to push their hefty friend above the water. Fergal gasped and coughed as his body fought to inhale all the fresh air at once.

  Finn followed his comrades’ example and unhooked himself from Fergal without letting go of him. “Do we still have all our things?” he asked. “I don’t want to risk what happens if we step out too early.”

  “Let’s move,” Niall said.

  The group swam toward the edge of the lake until they could crawl ashore. Each person flopped onto their back to rest and catch their breath.

  Wherever they had arrived, it was night now. A ring of trees surrounded the lough, each so old and so tall that its lowest branches started thirty feet off the ground.

  The moon there was full, appearing larger and brighter than its counterpart back home.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Fergal said. “I’m not doing a fine job of helping you.”

  “None of that,” Maeve said. “You’ve been sound throughout the journey. I have to ask you for a terrible favor, though.”

  “And that is?”

  “We’re not heading out tonight,” she said. “I mean for us to make camp—such as it is—and rest here tonight. We’ll be needing wood. Bring your axe.”

  “I’ll come with you, lad,” Niall said.

  “Grand,” Maeve said. “Maybe don’t start with these tall ones.”

  The men followed the shoreline to the forest on their right.

  Maeve sat and wrapped her arms around her knees. Her jaw was clenched, her brows were furrowed and her torso trembled by fractions of an inch.

  “You’re cold,” Finn said.

  “We’re all cold,” Maeve said.

  “Let me try to fix it.”

  “Ah here, blasting me with wind will surely do the trick.”

  “It will,” Finn said, “and you know it yourself.”

  Maeve looked away from Finn and bounced her lips as she exhaled. She stood and raised her arms. “Do it.”

  Finn pulled his arms back, but something was out of place. He didn’t feel the usual prickles of cold on his wrists and hands that preceded a blast of wind. It's because my hands are frozen, he thought. He shoved his hands forward. “Gáe?.”

  Nothing went forward. He felt nothing in his hands. He tried once more. “Gáe? nert!”

  “Will you stop faffing around, MacLaughlin?” she said. “I’ve got no patience for this nonsense.”

  “You being the paragon of patience, after all,” he said.

  “Shut your bake!” she said. “Where did your magic go?”

  “If I knew, you’d be dry.” He searched Maeve’s feet for the answers. “I just wore myself out, that’s all. I’ll be better after some rest.”

  He raised his eyes to meet Maeve’s. She didn’t believe him, either.

  Finn heard Maeve’s approaching footsteps. “You were supposed to be resting,” she said.

  It wasn’t for lack of his trying. Finn’s mind would not quiet. It rifled through all his knowledge of nature, lore and magic, searching for any cause other than the one he dreaded was true.

  “Wasn’t that the reason your magic didn’t work last night?” she asked. “You were tired?”

  Finn blew out a long breath through his mouth and dropped his head. “I was mistaken.”

  She sat down and crossed her legs. He could feel her staring a new earhole into the side of his face. “But you weren’t mistaken,” she said. “You were lying.”

  “Sure look, I’m sorry for that,” he said. “I didn’t know for certain.”

  “Oh, you weren’t lying to me,” she said. “I was just standing there. You were trying to lie to yourself.”

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eye before nodding. “So I was,” he said.

  “So what happened to your magic?” she asked. “Where did it go?”

  “It didn’t go anywhere,” he said. “Sílrad magic has always been a trade of energy between the planes that occupy the same land.”

  “And now we’re in a new land,” Maeve said.

  “With different planes,” Finn said. “I’ve only consistently used magic from two planes back home.”

  “So tap a new one here,” Maeve said.

  Finn rubbed his face and pushed himself into a standing position. “It’s not that easy. I have no idea how many planes are here. Even if I did, I have no way of knowing the type of energy each plane possesses.”

  Maeve stood up and gave him a soft slap on his back. “Walk with me,” she said, pointing to a pathway leading east from the lake. The grey light of morning didn’t break through the trees until they were ten yards from the forest’s edge. The path opened up onto a narrow clearing between the forest and the cliffs. Anyone riding a galloping horse down this path could not stop in time and would plummet into the sea.

  What Finn knew about Tír fo Thuinn and what spread out before his eyes did not match. This was supposed to be a magical land hidden under the ocean waves. Instead, he and Maeve walked along a cliffside forty feet above the sea. The trees appeared a bit odd compared with the ones back home—an illusion caused by the slight fog, perhaps—but the land here easily could be mistaken for a coastline in Ulster or Connaught.

  “You’re going to make me say something nice about you, aren’t you?” she said.

  “Sorry?”

  “Who’s the eejit that knows the name of every mountain, river and lake?”

  Finn canted his head. “…I am? I am an eejit? This really is your manner of ‘nice,’ isn’t it?”

  “Just… listen,” she said. “You saw an open lake surrounded by ones covered in glass, and you recognized it as a portal and—as far as we know—correctly identified where it led. Given enough time, you will figure out how to tap into this world’s magic.”

  “Educated guesses so far,” he said. “The deeper we go, the less information I have.”

  “Here we are at the ‘nice’ part,” she said. “My friend Brendan is a smug little arse, but he’s also wise beyond his years. If he doesn’t have an answer about something dealing with magic, there’s no answer to be had. Siobhan? I don’t have to tell you how competent and talented she is.”

  “I see,” Finn said. “You’re nice when they’re not around.”

  “You’re not too old for me to clatter you,” she said. “I was getting to that part. What continues to surprise me about you is your ability to ride out the troubles. You take whatever the situation provides and you make it work.

  “If someone were to throw me into a mess like this, blind as a bat, and ask which one of you three I’d want to take—God help me for saying this—if I could only pick one, it’d be you.”

  Finn stopped walking. His mouth fell open.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “You can tell anyone you want about our talk. No one’s going to believe you.”

  Finn grinned. “Gavin might. He’s got the size of you.”

  Maeve shook her head and smiled. “Eejit.”

  "Thanks, Maeve," Finn said. He resumed his stroll along the cliff.

  “Not to spin you up,” she said, “but if we’re going to leave here, you’ll have to figure out this world and learn all its planes, right? Then, once we travel to the world where Siobhan and Donal are heading, you’ll have to learn about all the planes over there?”

  Finn nodded. “That’s right,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I can tell you I’m not looking forward—hang on.”

  Finn jogged ahead to an overlook and squinted at the eastern sea. An island sat on a rocky pedestal halfway to the horizon, its surface covered in a sickly green color. A cluster of houses stood on the northwest side of the island. Dead trees covered much of the southeastern corner. A large castle loomed over the barren trees. Moss and ivy claimed much of its outer walls—a task several centuries in the making—yet the fortress’ lines were sleek, its design as contemporary as Doe Castle.

  He wagged his finger at the island and looked at Maeve. “If I didn’t know better,” he said. “I’d say that looks like Tech Duinn. At least based on the things I’ve read.”

  “Is Tech Duinn part of Tír fo Thuinn?” Maeve asked.

  “It is not,” Finn said. “Some say it appears out past the Skelligs down in Kerry, but it’s not part of Tír fo Thuinn. Our ancestors believed we go to Tech Duinn after we die and from there we travel to the world we’re meant to live in.”

  “You’re certain of this?” she asked. “Maybe we’re in Tech Duinn instead of Tír fo Thuinn?”

  “Naw, it’s an island,” Finn said. “Maeve, I’m telling you, that part of the island is the spittin’ image of it.”

  “What does it mean?” Maeve asked.

  Finn pulled on his right earlobe. Could we be that lucky? he asked himself.

  “Finn?”

  “It means we could be in the same world as the others already,” he said. “We’ve been treating these places as separate worlds. But it’s right there in their names: ‘Land of Plenty,’ ‘Land of Promise,’ ‘Land of the Living.’ I think it’s all one world and the lands are all parts of it. I think our jobs just got a wee bit easier.”

  “That sounds like good news,” Maeve said.

  “Don’t we all love good news?” a strange voice asked from behind them.

  Four people approached from the forest behind Finn, clad in leather wrappings, each carrying a spear and a buckler. The oldest of the strangers stepped forward. A scar descended past the right side of his nose and split his smile. “Don’t be shy now,” he said. “We’d love to hear it.”

  Finn twisted his waist, hoping in vain that Fragarach’s scabbard would bat his hip. But he knew better. Their weapons were back at camp, and they had strayed too far.

  Today is national Awareness Day

  A condition where a child's immune system starts attacking part of their brain, causing a wide range of otherwise unrelated symptoms. It's an arduous process to get a child diagnosed, a constant battle against insurance companies to get treatment and a near impossibility to explain to other people without causing their eyes to glaze over--much less getting them to understand.

  I'm going to part with some information that never officially disclosed here on RoyalRoad: I have a son who's been fighting this for nearly ten years. Many aspects of Donal are based on him and his struggle--at least at the start of writing, characters always evolve in unplanned ways. But P/P affects each child differently. And I've intentionally left some aspects out, because they don't (and shouldn't) lend themselves to fiction, and self-insertion for the sake of it does a disservice to both the real-life inspiration and the story.

  There are so many people and families struggling with battles others may not understand. All of us at some point will need and deserve grace from strangers. I guess that's why I'm typing this right now. If you ever get a chance to do so, it will mean more to them than you will know.

  Sorry for spilling some reality on a fantasy story. If you haven't already unfollowed me for doing so, I'm so very grateful and I won't do it again. :)