So far, so good, Donal thought.

  The trees of Tír Tairnigirie resembled their trees back home. The animal noises that surrounded their camp last night sounded like any other night under the stars in Tyrconnell.

  The reds, oranges and purples smeared across the predawn sky were more vibrant and saturated, yet they stacked on top of each other in the same order as the morning skies back home. Brigid volunteered to take the first drink from a local stream, and the rest of the group agreed the water tasted better.

  “Are we ready to move?” Siobhan asked the scattered group. She received but a few distracted grunts in reply.

  “Brendan, I was wondering if you could use that locator magic again,” Donal asked.

  “Sure I could,” Brendan said, “but they took a different portal than we did. And it had to lead them to a different world.”

  “Would it hurt to try?” Donal asked.

  “Do we have the time?” Brendan asked Siobhan.

  “I don’t see why not,” she said, yanking a strand of red copper hair from her head. “It’s a quick spell.”

  Donal pulled at his hair but it repeatedly slipped through his fingers. Siobhan pulled a lock from his scalp on the first tug.

  “Aimsi? an duine caillte Finn,” he said as he rotated his arms.

  His eyes didn’t change color. No tingle spread through the air. He stopped moving his arms, took a breath and tried again. Nothing.

  Ciara tapped him on the shoulder and handed him her staff with a smirk on her face. “Tie one around my staff and the other around yours.”

  Hair strands affixed, Brendan held both staffs horizontally with their heads pointed inward. He rotated them over and under each other, repeating the invocation.

  Grey light glowed from the staff heads and from behind his eyelids. “I don’t believe it,” Brendan said. “I sense them!”

  “Fantastic!” Siobhan said. “Where are they? In which direction?”

  Brendan shook his head. “That bit is proving hard to figure,” he said. “The feeling is very faint. They’re farther away than they were on the other plane. As for their direction, all I can say is that they’re to the east of us. Somewhere between due north and due south.”

  “That’s aggressively unspecific,” Ciara said.

  “Right, but it’s something,” Brigid said.

  Donal pointed at Ciara. “How did you know to give him your staff?” he asked.

  “Frankly,” she said, “it was a childish mistake of his not to ask for it from the start. New world, new planes. Our staffs hold wood from enchanted trees, so it takes less effort to channel magic from unknown planes. You might say they push and pull the magic for us.”

  “Could Fergal and the others truly be in Tír Tairnigirie?” Brigid asked.

  “All I can tell you is that I sensed them and they were far away on that side of us,” Brendan said, pushing his hand to the east. “I won’t speculate on any more than that for now."

  “Sure look,” Siobhan said, “if it’s not good news, then it’s at least cause for cautious optimism. And it gets better: there’s one trail leading from the portal, and it winds to the northeast. We’re already closing the distance.”

  It wasn’t a straight line but the path leading out of the forest provided enough room to keep the forest off their elbows.

  “At least it’s easier going than Mag do Cheonn,” Brigid said. “Those trees had it out for us.”

  The crooked path prevented Donal from properly estimating distance. The sun cleared the horizon by the time they reached a river.

  The river flowed from the northwest and bent eastward half a mile to their right. Fields of tall, unkempt grass spread out in all directions from the other riverbank. The near bank on which they stood was wide and flat. A thin line of oak and hazel trees ran parallel to the horizon.

  Siobhan’s eyes trailed the river to the left and nodded. “Here’s us,” she said. “That’s likely a road in the distance. We’re going to follow the river along its right bank. If there are any cities in this land, we’ll find them where it meets that road.”

  “Couldn’t have said it better,” Brigid said with a smile and a pat on Siobhan’s back. “Oi, Donal, it’s time we put you to the test.”

  Donal nodded out of reflex before his memory caught up with the conversation. “What manner of answer do you need from me that our battles so far failed to provide?” he asked.

  “We haven’t tested your speed,” she said. “Throw your things down and let’s you and myself have a quick race. Won’t take long.”

  Only after Siobhan answered his beckoning look with a shrug did Donal set his gear on the ground.

  “See the dead tree up ahead?” she asked. “Last one to the tree carries the other’s gear to town.”

  Donal scoffed. “Unlikely. You’re setting me up for something.”

  “It’s a nice, friendly race. A chance to show your prowess,” she said with a wink. “In fact, I’ll give you three feet. Brendan, when he’s ready, we’ll go on three.”

  Donal leaned his shoulders over his lead foot. He glanced back at Brigid, still in disbelief that the group had agreed to pause for this game.

  Brendan counted up. “1… 2… 3! Go, Brigid! Catch ‘im!”

  Donal’s jump was a good one. His feet pounded out the first ten paces, with nothing but the sound of his heart beating and lungs heaving. In fact, there were no sounds near him at all.

  He risked a glimpse over his shoulder and saw Brigid, still on her starting spot, smiling and wiggling her fingers in a playful wave.

  Donal’s feet thumped the ground as he slowed to a stop. He folded his hands together and rested them on the crown of his head. “What happened to the test?” he asked, gasping before and after speaking.

  “It’s still underway,” Brigid said with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “You’re off to a great start.” She smiled so wide that her jaws split.

  Donal pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Should I be running?”

  “If you want to.”

  He wrinkled his nose and chuckled in spite of himself. “Sorry?”

  “Congratulations, lad,” she said. “You passed.”

  Siobhan knitted her brow. “Now I’m confused. This wasn’t a joke?”

  “Not entirely,” Brigid said. “I wanted to gauge how trusting of strangers our lad was, and how he handled a bit of confusion and teasing.”

  “Fergal’s still missing,” Donal said. “Maeve, too. Is this the best time to make jokes?”

  Her mouth flattened. “I’m well aware of that, Donal. We all knew the risks when we left home. I know Maeve and Fergal, and if there’s a way for them to find us, they’ll find us. It’s natural to worry about those you love, but walking around fearing the worst at all times won’t help them—or us.”

  “Fine, fine,” Siobhan said. “Your point’s well taken, but we shouldn’t spend that time playing games either. Let’s crack on.”

  The group passed Donal as he gathered his gear.

  “I knew they’d take something fun and turn it into a bleedin’ life lesson,” Ciara muttered to herself.

  Brigid bumped Donal’s arm. “I’ll take that,” she said, pointing to his bag.

  “Excuse me?” he asked.

  “Technically, you ran faster than I did. I’ll be carrying your bag now.”

  “Stow your spears,” Siobhan said. “That looks like a town to me.”

  The river jogged northeast toward a collection of houses three-quarters of a mile away. Donal saw no front doors, only modest stone and wattle fencing.

  “The river doesn’t go through town,” Brigid said, “which means we’re on the wrong side of it.”

  “It’s a bad look to go into a strange town soaked,” Brendan said. “I don’t care which side of the portal you’re on.”

  “Ideas?” Siobhan asked.

  “I could make a wall of earth and we could stroll across,” Brendan said.

  Ciara grimaced.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “What is it?” Siobhan asked.

  “The townsfolk might notice any major disruptions to their river downstream,” Ciara said. “Strangers walking through town immediately after? It makes people nervous.”

  “Is that experience speaking?” Brigid asked.

  “I didn’t say that,” Ciara said.

  “You didn’t have to,” Brigid said.

  Brendan shook his head. “This river is already twelve feet wide and strong. I can’t simply make dirt pillars to let the water pass. The current will sweep them away before we all get across.”

  “So make more?” Ciara asked.

  “He won’t have to,” Siobhan said. She pointed to the near bank. “Give us a lash. Only there.”

  Brendan held his arms two feet apart, pushed them down and raised them to his face. “Ardú tala?!”

  A small column of earth surfaced a foot from the river bank.

  “Tala? a a?rú go clo?!” Siobhan said. She pushed a hand toward the newly formed step and it hardened into stone. “Again.”

  Brendan and Siobhan created four more steps in this manner, creating a diagonal path of stepping stones across the river.

  “I wouldn’t take their sturdiness for granted,” she said. “Steady steps. Don’t dawdle. Ciara, go.”

  Ciara folded her arms. “You want me to test it for you? That’s grand!”

  “No,” Siobhan said. “I was thinking… I—”

  “—You’re a waif that’s been malnourished for four years,” Brigid said. She looked to Siobhan. “You meant Donal to be last, preceded by myself?”

  Siobhan winced and looked away. “I thought—”

  “—You thought right, lass,” Brigid said. “I was ready to suggest the same thing. We have spears for balance if the steps give way.”

  Ciara dropped her arms and looked to the ground. “I see. It’s a good plan.” She grabbed her gear and walked to the edge of the river.

  Brigid winked at Siobhan and gave the druid a pat on the shoulder. “It is.”

  Siobhan’s uneasy expression faded.

  Each of them crossed the river, one step at a time, until they reached the other side dry as a sun-baked stone.

  Siobhan spread her arms wide and pulled them back. “Clao?laíonn an clo? go tala?!” The tops of the pillars crumbled. Pieces of stone fell away to reveal the original earthen steps Brendan had created. “The river will take care of the rest.”

  They followed the river to the town boundary. From here the river resumed its southern course. A shady dirt path led from the riverbend between two rows of houses. They stepped out of the shade and into the sun-drenched street that bisected the town. Aside from a handful of market carts and stands five blocks to the north, every building in sight was a daub-and-wattle home. Large, small, one story or two, every house appeared to be of the same age and built by the same hands.

  People spilled out of their homes, their bellies no doubt filled with breakfast. Adults worked on odd tasks outside their homes. Children played in the street. Old couples out for a stroll basked in the sun. Donal could pick the entire town up and carry it to Tyrconnell, and no one would tell the difference.

  “Is anyone else confused?” Donal asked.

  “Confused about what, exactly?” Brendan asked.

  “This is an Otherworld, right?” Donal asked. “One of the places where people go when they die? Doesn’t seem like it to me.” He pointed to a group of children up ahead. “Look at ‘em. Are they meant to stay that age forever?”

  Brendan shook his head. “I can’t say that I’ve thought about it much.”

  “We won’t get the answer walking down one road in one town,” Siobhan said.

  “Finn would know.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Siobhan said. “Time works differently here. Honestly, we can’t assume that we’re the only mortals who crossed into here from Ireland.”

  “It’s a safer assumption than you think,” Ciara said, waving a finger at the folks approaching them.

  The locals gave Donal’s group a wide berth. Some shifted to the other side of the street. Others reversed course altogether. Nobody spoke to them as they walked north through town until they crossed paths with a young woman entering town from the north.

  Her lanky frame glided through crowd in front of the merchants until she stood eye-to-eye with Donal.

  “It’s your armor and weapons,” she said. “The only ones who walk freely within the town in those getups are the town guards. Or those leaving to hunt.” She walked up to Donal. Her tawny brown eyes lingered on his hauberk and spear. “Are you about to hunt something…” She dipped her heart-shaped face and raised her eyebrows.

  “Donal,” he said. “MacLaughlin.”

  The woman smiled. “I thought you lot sounded like you were from the north.”

  Donal opened his mouth to speak, but no words escaped.

  “And your name?” Brigid asked. She poked Donal in the back with enough force to coax his mouth shut.

  “Caitlín MacDonagh,” she said. “My mam and I live a few miles north of town.”

  “What is this town’s name?” Brendan asked.

  “Derglocha,” Caitlín said. “How do you not know that?”

  “We’re new, in case you haven’t noticed from our ‘getups,’ Ciara said.

  “And?” Caitlín said. “Yer people from Tech Duinn wouldn’t have dropped you here without sharing your new home’s name with you.”

  Of all the times for Finn to go missing, Donal thought.

  “We didn’t arrive here the conventional way,” Siobhan said. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, you’re all fish!” she said.

  “Excuse me?” Ciara asked.

  “Y’know, fish,” Caitlín said. “Someone landed you on their hook and reeled you in here.”

  “That doesn’t sound like us, either,” Siobhan said. “We walked through a portal.”

  Caitlín’s eyes lit up. “Ah here, you’re roamers! Don’t come across many of your kind. Not here in Tír Tairnigire. What would make you want to take a journey like that?”

  “It’s a long story,” Siobhan said. “We’re looking for a woman—I guess you’d call her a fish.”

  “You’ll have to be more specific than that,” Caitlín said. “Fish are uncommon in this part of the world, but they do appear. My mam has a soft spot for ‘em. Myself, I enjoy meeting the unfamiliar faces that come by. Forever can get boring sometimes.”

  She winked at Donal.

  “This particular woman was lured here with the promise of finding her deceased baby daughter,” Brendan said. “It would have been twenty-five years ago.”

  “It would have been twenty years ago for you people,” Caitlín said. “Time doesn’t work like that in most places here. In fact, that’s the hardest adjustment for most who come here. Except…”

  Caitlín turned her head and squinted at the ground. With a snap of her fingers, her eyes widened and a smile spread across her face.

  “I know someone like that,” she said. “She was friends with my mam for a bit. Until she left. Wouldn’t say why.”

  “You’re clearly taking this fruit somewhere,” Brendan said, pointing to her basket. “Perhaps when you’re done, you can introduce us to your mother?”

  Caitlín traced the pattern atop Brendan’s staff with her index finger. “For such a well-mannered gentleman as yourself? The market can wait.”

  “A true saint among ghosts, this one,” Ciara said as she stepped between Siobhan and Brendan. “Do we need that bard here to remind us what happens when we accept gifts in the underworld?”

  “What gifts are you talking about?” Brigid asked. “We asked her for help.”

  “After she approached us,” Ciara said. She placed a hand on the small of Brendan’s back. “Do you want to get led around by the first woman who bats her pretty eyes at you?”

  Brigid leaned close to Siobhan. “I recall having this same conversation with him four years ago when we captured Ciara,” she muttered. “I wish her better luck than I had.”

  Siobhan elbowed Brigid and stepped forward. “We’d be thankful for any help you could provide, Caitlín.”

  Caitlín grinned. “Follow me.”

  Donal hastened to catch her. “I can take your basket,” he said. “Having a free hand and all.”

  “Because you forgot to take your bag from me when we reached town,” Brigid called ahead. “Per our agreement.”

  A wave of warmth washed across Donal’s face. “I’m sorry, Brigid, would you like me to—”

  “—forgo doing a good turn unto the lady?” she asked. “Of course not.”

  Brigid’s words dripped with so much sarcasm and annoyance that Donal knew she wouldn’t return his bag if he begged for it.

  “Thank you, lass,” Caitlín said over her shoulder. She twisted Donal to face front. “And thank you, sir. Always nice to make new friends.”

  “How far is your home?” Donal asked.

  “Not far at all,” Caitlín said. “I left for town as soon as the sun peeked over our trees.”

  Donal lifted the basket lid and found the container full of apples, cherries and pears. “You and your mom grow all of these?”

  “Indeed, we do,” she said. “That and more.”

  “And you sell it at the market in town?” Donal asked. “That sounds—”

  “—Nice?”

  “Terrible,” Donal said.

  “Now why would you go and say a thing like that?”

  Donal pressed his lips and shrugged. “I would have thought that there’d be no need for money in the Land of Promise.”

  “It’s more of a barter system,” Caitlín said. “And a reason to step out and see other people. The orchard gives Mam as much or as little purpose as she needs.”

  “‘Terrible’ was too strong of a word,” Donal said.

  She nodded. “So it was.”

  Most of the growing fields were planted north of Derglocha and no fences lined the fields. Where the growing stopped, the grass grew three feet high.

  A grove of trees crested over the grassy hills along the east side of the road.

  “Is that your orchard?” Donal asked.

  “And my home,” Caitlín said.

  It took several more minutes to reach the MacDonagh home, a rectangular stone house with a steep straw roof. A brown dog of indeterminate breed laid in the open threshold. It raised its head and watched the group turn from the main road. Once it recognized Caitlín, it thumped its tail twice, climbed to all fours and barked as it approached its master.

  “What did you forget?” a woman’s voice called from the house. “It’s not like you to return so early.”

  “No, but I brought new friends!” Caitlín said. “Come out and meet them.”

  The front door opened and Caitlín’s mother emerged wearing a deep blue leine and saffron pants. She kept her auburn hair at shoulder length and it held a slight wave. She had the same tawny eyes as the group’s escort but set in her wider face. Her nose was longer with a slight downturn.

  “This is my mother, Sorcha.”

  “You were truthful, my daughter,” her mother said. “Where did you find these people?”

  “In town,” Caitlín said. “They’re roamers. This is Donal, and his sister, Siobhan—”

  “—She’s not my—” Donal said, raising a hand to correct Caitlín.

  “—This is Brigid, her brother Brendan, and their friend Caoimhe.”

  “Ciara,” the sorceress said. “Is she doing this on purpose?”

  “What brings them to our home, other than your boredom?”

  Siobhan stepped even with Donal and Caitlín. “We need your help, Mrs. MacDonagh.”

  “What could I possibly offer you that no one else in town could? Did you ask around Deora Fand? It’s only a few miles south of Derglocha. Surely someone there could help you better than myself.”

  “No, it’s you we’re looking for,” Siobhan said. “More specifically, someone you might know: Caragh MacRannell. Family and friends sent us here to find her.”

  “Caragh?” Sorcha asked. “A fine woman, but she’s not here. She lived with her daughter in Tír na Beo for years until the daughter grew up. Off she went after that.

  Siobhan sighed. “Another world,” she said to Brigid. “How is she leaping between here, Tír na nóg and Tír na Beo so easily?”

  “Mrs. MacDonagh,” Brendan said, “do you know anything about portals? We need to get to Tír na Beo.”

  The MacDonaghs shared an amused expression; Caitlín clearly inherited her mother’s brilliant smile. “I don’t know anything about a portal,” the mother said, “but there’s a bridge to Tír na Beo just between Derglocha and Deora Fand, the next town to the south.”

  Donal perked up. “A bridge? You must mean one of those glowing doorways made of light.”

  Sorcha knitted her brow twisted her neck. “No, lad, I mean a large stone road that carries you over water.”

  Siobhan’s, Brendan’s and Brigid’s faces dropped. Each of them looked to the east and then back toward each other. Their mouths hung open with just the slightest upturn in the corners of their mouths.

  “Mrs. MacDonagh,” Siobhan said. “could the two of you find the time for a trip today?"