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finding the carpark dead ahead. He came to an abrupt halt when he realized there was nothing there but open, green field. Everything was gone.
Conor stared at the area where his car should have been, starting to wonder if he hadn’t lost his mind. Nothing was as it should be or where he left it and he was struggling against an increasingly strong sense of dread. As he stood there with Destry cradled in his arms, trying to figure out what he should do next, the bramble off to his left suddenly rattled.
Startled, he whirled around in time to see a very small, willowy woman push through the trees with three small children at her side. His brow furrowed as he realized the woman was wearing a nightgown. Or, at least, he thought it was a nightgown; it was as white as she was, the color blending into her skin, all wispy and flowing. She also had a walking stick in her hand, a stick that was twice her height.
As the trees parted and the woman drew closer, he could see that she was a younger woman, her white hair long and straight, and the children with her weren’t as much children as they were midgets or dwarfs. He truly had no idea; they were odd little people with big hands and big heads, and they were dressed in raggedy pajamas as they suddenly rushed at him, squealing. Startled, and at a disadvantage with an unconscious woman in his arms, Conor backed off. The woman in the nightgown lifted a hand to him in greeting.
“ Mo Thiarna ,” she said. “ Dia bheannaithe linn ar an lá seo de laethanta le do thuairisceán. Táimid ag guí ar an lá seo.”
Conor stared at her. It was an extremely archaic form of Irish Gaelic, something very odd and out of place in this modern world. Although he understood her completely, her words had no meaning to him. My lord, God has blessed us on this day of days with your return. We have prayed for this day.
“ Dia, ” he replied. “ Duit go bhfuil an bhean bhí gortaithe. An féidir leat glaoch ar chabhair leighis?”
This woman is injured; can you call for medical assistance ? He tried not to sound too panicked or too bewildered as he asked. Getting help for Destry was all he could think about at the moment; everything else, all of the weirdness and disorientation, would have to wait. But the woman smiled faintly at him.
“You do not remember me, do you?” she said in her heavy Gaelic. “‘Tis of no concern, my lord. You will remember in time.”
Conor regarded her, shaking his head after a moment and replying in her dialect. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are. Do you have a mobile phone with you?”
There was no word for ‘phone’ in Gaelic, so he had to go with the best translation he could. The woman cocked her head, looking rather amused. “I am Padraigan the White,” she said. “Your memory will return. But you must come with me now, quickly. They must not find you here.”
Conor had no idea what she was talking about. He thought the woman was a little crazy so he started to walk away, thinking it would be best to put distance between them, but she trailed after him.
“Please, my lord,” she said with growing insistence. “You must not go that way. You must come with me. You must…!”
He suddenly came to a halt, whirling on her. “Look,” he cut her off, the distinct look of agitation on his face. “This lady is injured. She needs a doctor. Can you at least call for a taxi so I can get her to a hospital?”
The little people collected at Conor’s feet and began to tug at him, inspecting his jeans. He actually kicked one of them away when the man got too close to his crotch. Padraigan put her stick out and tapped one of the little folk on the shoulder, causing all of them to look at her.
“Quickly,” she commanded softly. “Get the horses. We must return them swiftly or all will be lost.”
“What are you talking about?” Conor asked, growing more distressed. “Can you even understand what I’m saying? I need to get this woman to a
Conor stared at the area where his car should have been, starting to wonder if he hadn’t lost his mind. Nothing was as it should be or where he left it and he was struggling against an increasingly strong sense of dread. As he stood there with Destry cradled in his arms, trying to figure out what he should do next, the bramble off to his left suddenly rattled.
Startled, he whirled around in time to see a very small, willowy woman push through the trees with three small children at her side. His brow furrowed as he realized the woman was wearing a nightgown. Or, at least, he thought it was a nightgown; it was as white as she was, the color blending into her skin, all wispy and flowing. She also had a walking stick in her hand, a stick that was twice her height.
As the trees parted and the woman drew closer, he could see that she was a younger woman, her white hair long and straight, and the children with her weren’t as much children as they were midgets or dwarfs. He truly had no idea; they were odd little people with big hands and big heads, and they were dressed in raggedy pajamas as they suddenly rushed at him, squealing. Startled, and at a disadvantage with an unconscious woman in his arms, Conor backed off. The woman in the nightgown lifted a hand to him in greeting.
“ Mo Thiarna ,” she said. “ Dia bheannaithe linn ar an lá seo de laethanta le do thuairisceán. Táimid ag guí ar an lá seo.”
Conor stared at her. It was an extremely archaic form of Irish Gaelic, something very odd and out of place in this modern world. Although he understood her completely, her words had no meaning to him. My lord, God has blessed us on this day of days with your return. We have prayed for this day.
“ Dia, ” he replied. “ Duit go bhfuil an bhean bhí gortaithe. An féidir leat glaoch ar chabhair leighis?”
This woman is injured; can you call for medical assistance ? He tried not to sound too panicked or too bewildered as he asked. Getting help for Destry was all he could think about at the moment; everything else, all of the weirdness and disorientation, would have to wait. But the woman smiled faintly at him.
“You do not remember me, do you?” she said in her heavy Gaelic. “‘Tis of no concern, my lord. You will remember in time.”
Conor regarded her, shaking his head after a moment and replying in her dialect. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are. Do you have a mobile phone with you?”
There was no word for ‘phone’ in Gaelic, so he had to go with the best translation he could. The woman cocked her head, looking rather amused. “I am Padraigan the White,” she said. “Your memory will return. But you must come with me now, quickly. They must not find you here.”
Conor had no idea what she was talking about. He thought the woman was a little crazy so he started to walk away, thinking it would be best to put distance between them, but she trailed after him.
“Please, my lord,” she said with growing insistence. “You must not go that way. You must come with me. You must…!”
He suddenly came to a halt, whirling on her. “Look,” he cut her off, the distinct look of agitation on his face. “This lady is injured. She needs a doctor. Can you at least call for a taxi so I can get her to a hospital?”
The little people collected at Conor’s feet and began to tug at him, inspecting his jeans. He actually kicked one of them away when the man got too close to his crotch. Padraigan put her stick out and tapped one of the little folk on the shoulder, causing all of them to look at her.
“Quickly,” she commanded softly. “Get the horses. We must return them swiftly or all will be lost.”
“What are you talking about?” Conor asked, growing more distressed. “Can you even understand what I’m saying? I need to get this woman to a
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