On Top of Nashega: CHAPTER 3

On Top of Nashega: Chapter 3
by katirene (XMP)

     Darby looked at the young couple with sad eyes. "Looks like ye've lost ye're chance. That was t'only way out wi' no spell guarding it."

     "What about the well I fell down?" Miguel asked. Ari nodded her agreement.

      "There's no way up to the opening," the old storyteller claimed. "Tis a good eight feet up before ye get to walls around ye." He rubbed his grizzled chin and tugged at the bill of his cap. With a nod, he concluded, "But it may weel be ye'r only chance. I much doubt they'd be expecting that." Miguel shrugged.

     Looking down at his companion, he avowed, "We can do it."

     "I know where it is," she responded, picking up her pack and replacing it on her back before reaching out for his hand. The old man darted away and then returned more slowly, staggering under an identical pack. With a wry grin, Miguel hurried to relieve him of the weight, slinging it on as if it were featherlight. Taking Ari's hand in his, he allowed her to lead him through one of the open passages opening onto the great hall, Darby following close behind.

     "Tell me lad, how did you follow yon lass through the fog? I mean, once she'd gotten so far up the hill, no power of the third path could have turned her from her goal, but ye? The wee ones have traps set for the ordinary mortal."

Miguel shrugged, not understanding the question.

     "I wondered about that myself," Ari interjected. "You aren't wearing your Christopher today, are you?" He shook his head.

     "Nay, that'd not do it," the canny old man contradicted. "Tis a simple thing for one of the Good Folk to turn away religious medal aside. They mislike them too much. But the native charms, now. That would confuse them in in these effete days. Are ye carryin' cold iron or bread or salt, lad?" Miguel shook his head, feeling more and more at lost in the conversation.

     "I have no idea what you two are talking about," he said. "All I know is that Ari moved away from me and I followed." Ari shrugged, dismissing the question as unimportant, having found what she was looking for.

     Pointing up, she said, "There it is." Miguel knelt down, removing his pack and rummaging inside. He took a grappling gun out of it. Ari pulled another coil of rope from her bag, handing it to him as he reached for the one he'd been tied up with. "Better use this," she advised. "That one's been cut." Nodding, he accepted it and secured one end to the hook.

     Taking aim at the small bright circle far above them, a little off from straight up, he pulled the trigger, and moved to one side of the opening, urging the others out of the way as well. Then he carefully becgan to pull it taut. But the hook must not have caught on anything, because it fell down again. Adjusting the power setting, Miguel fired again. This time, It stayed up when he pulled in the slack. He pulled hard, testing the hold.

     Holding the end, he gestured to the small woman beside him. "Ok, you go first, Ari," he advised. "And I'll hold it steady down here. Leave your pack, I don't want either of us to risk the climb with the extra weight. Take this," he handed her the coil of cut rope, "and drop one end down when you get out. I'll tie the packs on and you can lift them." She gave him a worried glance and nodded, shrugging the heavy load off her shoulder.

     "Ok. I'll give three tugs when I've got them," she replied. Before she took hold of the cord, though, she turned to the old man. Goodbye Darby O'Gill, and thanks for everything. I don't think we'll be meeting one another again in this lifetime." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

     With tears in his eyes, he patted her shoulder. "Ye take care, lass. And don't be so harsh on old Brian. He was sair broken up when he let ye down so badly."

     She pivoted and, with one quick glance at the old Irishman, she took Miguel's face in both of her hands and kissed him. "You be careful climbing, do you hear me?" Before he could react, she grabbed the rope and swarmed up toward the bright light at the top of the well. Darby faced Miguel and quietly commented, "She has me Katie's own eyes. Ye be good to her, lad." The young man nodded absently, his eyes straining upward to follow her ascent.

     Half an hour later, he put his own leg over the stone wall of the well, and dropped to the ground on the other side. Looking with approval at the end tied to the tree trunk, he gave the rope two tugs and began to pull it rapidly up. Ari untied the other end and helped to coil the length as it appeared. She had her pack open beside her, waiting to receive the line.

     Finally, everything packed away and secure, they turned from the well, ready to start the descent. To their dismay, they found the way blocked by a circle of the wee folk, seated upon their horses at all of the openings in the broken stone walls. The king of the leprachauns sat upon his own stead watching them with sad eyes, no trace of laughter dancing in his eyes.

     "Darter," he said. "Will you be making your last wish?" His voice urged her to relent, to get it done with. Ari s hook her head stubbornly.

     "I came up here, eight years ago, with one simple wish. I asked you to take my nightmares away. You refused to do that, said that you could keep it from coming true. You didn't."

     "I couldn't remove your dreams, lass, no more than I can be removing the blue from your eyes or the curl from your hair. It's as much a part of you as anything in you." He sighed. "If I could, though, I'm not sure I would. T'is a blessing as well as a curse." Ari shook her head sharply, negating the idea. .

     "As for your mother, your father and the wee ones. I tried, lass. But I couldn't touch them behind the skirts of the holy sisters. You were the only one our magic could reach, for you had come to us. So I did what I could. I made you sick so that they'd stay and care for you. I never dreamed they'd be going on a pleasure outing with one child sair ill." .

     Ari sighed and looked down at her feet, shoulders slumping with the burden of guilt. "Then it was my fault, after all, just as Aunt Margaret said." Digging her toe in the dirt, she explained, "I'd been trying to stop us from going for more than a week. They thought I was pretending to feel bad to force them to stay." The petite woman looked so unhappy that Miguel couldn't bear it. Reaching out to touch her, his hand was stayed by a hideous scream of pain, longing and sorrow that rose up behind them and went on and on. Twirling around, eyes wide open and seeking the danger, he felt Ari doing the same, in the opposite direction, guarding his back as he guarded hers. .

     A female figure, dressed in long, pale, filmy tatters, her face covered with a shroud, hovered above the mounted figures blocking the paths. The leprachauns stared up at her with expressions of consternation and fear, struggling to control their rides without removing their eyes from the unexpected threat. .

     Screaming, crying, wailing with the pain of unbearable loss, she floated there, her hands wringing a bloody piece of cloth between them. Looking up from her task, only her eyes visible in the shadow beneath her veil, like pools of dead blackness ripped from the fabric of eternity, she pointed the fabric toward the two SeaQuest crewmembers, holding it out as her voice rose and fell, undulating with her loss and betrayal. Ari whirled back around, confronting King Brian. .

    "It's the Banshee, isn't it? How long? How long until my dreams come true again?" Miguel glanced back momentarily, wondering what she was talking about, then turned to face the danger again. .

     King Brian's voice was heavy with sorrow. "I'd say you have a month, maybe less. Best you enjoy the time you have, lass." .

     "No! Not again! I won't be left behind again. All right, King Brian. You want me to make my final wish. Here it is. I don't want to survive him. Do you hear me. When the black coach comes for him, I want your word that it will return for me, as well, soon after. Promise me this." Her voice rose in a weird imitation of the banshee's cry. "Promise!" .

     Miguel heard her words and a sick apprehension filled him. The thought of Ari contemplating death deliberately, for whatever reason, sickened and frightened him. Fearing this newest threat more than the eldritch spirit, he spun around, reaching out to pull the woman close, to protect her within the shelter of his arms. His eyes dared anyone to try to pull her from him, even as Brian of Nog Nashega, a note of surprise in his voice, asked, "He means that much to you.".

She nodded, the tears filling her eyes spilling out onto her cheeks. Miguel wiped one from her face, catching it on his forefinger. .

     "Yes, he means that much to me. I can't contemplate a life without him." .

     "Ari, no!" Miguel pleaded, looking down at her with a pained face. He remembered how, after he'd been shot, she'd been so convinced he'd been killed that she'd turned her face to the wall and retreated into a coma, refusing consciousness, willing herself to death. "I told you before, I won't leave you, as long as you need me! Never. You can't get rid of me that easily.".

     His eyes lighting slightly, the merry twinkle reasserting itself, King Brian nodded slowly, a small, odd smile on his face. "Granted." he said. At this word from the king of the leprachauns, the banshee faded away, leaving on last wail of sorrow hanging in the air. Then he added, "But I warn you, if you take up arms against yourself, there will be nothing I can do. In truth, I will consider myself bound to save you, for the sake of the wish." .

     As Ari nodded her agreement to this condition, King Brian studied the sensor chief closely. "And you? Does my Airenay mean as much to you? Is this the reason you would brave the black fog and descent into the dark hole? Would you, yourself, face death to bring her back?" .

    Miguel nodded. "Yes, she does and I would." Brian of Nog Nashega dismounted and walked toward them. With each step, he seemed to grow, until he was almost as tall as Miguel, although a great deal broader. .

     "Then be kneeling, the both of you, for my blessing," he ordered. With a sense of wonder, Miguel obeyed, tugging Ari down to her knees as well, when she showed signs of wanting to remain standing. The sidhe lord began to speak, a sonorous, rolling speech in a language that Miguel couldn't identify, but guessed was Gaelic. .

     Glancind down at the woman beside him, he found her looking up at the standing figure with an expression of stunned comprehension on her face. She met Miguel's gaze with a quick glance of pure, delighted mischief, reminding him strongly of the twinkle in the leprachaun's eye, before bowing her head in a demure pretense. A small suspicion occurred to him, and he surreptitiously pressed a small stud to a device on his belt. At last, Brian put his hands down on their heads. .

     "You can get up and be on your way," he advised them kindly, giving Miguel a nod and a wink, as if to say he knew what the sensor chief had done. "My subjects will not hinder you. And my dear, for your sake, you will find all your friends returned to you below the fog, relatively unchanged by the experience. But I do not advise you to continue the climb this day." Ari nodded agreement. .

    "Thank you, King Brian. And I'm sorry for the things I said about you." He backed away, growing smaller again rapidly..

     "Tis fine, darter, I do well understand." She nodded, this time with an air of finality. .

     "Good bye. Come on, Miguel. Let's go home." Miguel, shaking his head in confusion at all the undertones of the exchange, allowed the small woman to tug him down the slope. He looked back briefly, but there was no one there. Even so, he had the feeling that the leprachaun king was watching them from the vantage point. .

     Matching his steps so that he was striding beside the ensign, he asked curiously, "What was that speech he was giving back there?" Ari awarded him a brief, twisted grin. .

    "That? Oh, that was just an old blessing. A poem of sorts, nothing important. It was in ancient Gaelic, not modern Irish. If I had a recording of it, Tim or I could probably give you a translation, but," she shrugged. "Anyway, it was just his way of apologizing for things. Nothing to worry over." .

     "I wasn't worrying. I just thought that it sounded like some kind of ceremony." He snorted with amusement. "It almost sounded like a priest celebrating a marriage." Ari laughed at the thought and dropped his hand and running ahead. .

    Over her shoulder, she treacherously laughed back at him, "I'll race you to the bottom." Laughing and whooping, Miguel chased after, confident that he would catch her before much longer.

     Sitting on a boulder, rubbing her sore feet, Lonnie heard the yells first. Her head shot up and she saw Miguel and Ari burst through the heavy fog.

     "Ortiz! Adler! What do you mean, running like that in that murk? What if you'd fallen and broken something?" Brody yelled, finally finding an outlet for his worry and frustration.

     "What murk?" Ari asked innocently, turning around, her eyes widening with surprise. "Oh, that murk. Umm, it's not so heavy on the other side?" Her explanation seemed lame to Lonnie and from the looks of it, Lt. Brody didn't find it any more satisfying.

    A few moments later, Tim O'Neill and Trey Barlow exited the grey bank as well. With a last glare at the barrier, Brody nodded and gave the order to return to the launch. None of the four who were missing would give any explanation of what had occurred, a fact that Lonnie found highly aggravating. And three of the four seemed pleased rather than otherwise, in spite of the wasted time. But Miguel appeared somewhat worried and watched the small ensign anxiously when he thought no one was looking, as if expecting her to disappear at any moment.

     Ari paused when she heard the knock at the door to her quarters. "Enter," she called out, pulling her robe back on rapidly. As she'd expected, Miguel Ortiz stood there, looking bemused. "Well, come in."

     "Ummm, perhaps I'd better come back later," he suggested, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her state of undress.

     "Don't be silly. Come in. Come in, we'll do the best we can," she sang laughingly, sitting on the bed and patting the space beside her in an inviting fashion. "I won't attack you, you know." She laughed again at his heartfelt sigh of regret and mock-sorrowing agreement.

     "I know. I know," he mourned jokingly. "The story of my life."

     "Well, what is it you're wanting to be saying to me?" she asked, the Irish lilt strong in her voice after the days of hearing it in her ears. She'd have to be watching that, she thought.

     "I found something interesting when I was preparing for my shower," he said. Ari grinned impishly.

     "Oh, aye now? And ye brought it to be showing me?" she arched her eyebrows at him coquettishly. Miguel laughed and nudged her knee.

     "Are you sure I'm compleatly safe? That sounded like an invitation to me," he teased. She moved a little away from him, putting a few inches of free air between their thighs, still smiling though, so that he wouldn't take it as a rejection.

     "So, what would it be? This thing you found." Wordlessly, he pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it.

     "This," he replied simply, dropping the slightly wilted four leaf clover into her palm. "You dropped this down my back this morning. Along with some dirt and a number of ordinary clover."

     "Oooohh!" she breathed, then burst into a merry peal of laughter. "And this it is that kept the Good Folk from harming ye. Oh, Miguel. I'm so glad." And she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. Pulling away, she adjusted the edges of her robe together again, before opening her palm and looking at the innocuous appearing charm. "If you aren't minding, I'd like to enclose it in preservative and make of it a pendant."

     "I'd like to keep it, actually," he apologized, kissing her forehead. "Sort of the bride's gift to the groom." Shocked, Ari's head jerked up and her eyes locked onto his twinkling dark brown ones. The expression of mixed triumph, pure happiness and something more stole her breath away and she found it impossible to look away. "I did get a recording of King Brian's so-called poem." He chuckled, "After getting a look at the expression on your face when he started, I had to. I missed some of the beginning, but there was enough there for Tim to figure out what it was. According to him, it's the marriage ceremony performed by the ancient kings of Ireland when giving away their female relations." With an effort of self-control, Ari managed to pull her gaze from his and drop her eyes down to where her hands were nervously pleating the folds of her bathrobe.

    "Oh!" She felt that there should be something more to say, but for once, her facile intellect wasn't working. A finger applied pressure to her chin, forcing her head up.

    "So, you did know what it was. Why didn't you tell me the truth. Why would he try to join us in marriage like that? Was it just another one of his tricks?" He paused and took a deep breath before asking the important question. "And what about these dreams that have you so worried?" Ari licked her dry lips, an act that the disturbing man beside her apparently took as an invitation, because he leaned forward and kissed them.

    When she could, she tried to explain. "I was thinking all these years that it was a dream, only. A fever dream, brought on by the illness and my guilt at surviving the others. But then, there was Darby O'Gill at the Fourth Wish, as real as ever I remembered. I got to talking to him, while you and Tim were trying your hands at darts and he reminded me. See, when my family was visiting my aunt, I met Darby O'Gill then, in the village and started listening to his stories. I told him about this horrid nightmare I was having about a car accident, how it was that I was seeing my whole family die, one by one before my eyes. He advised me to climb to the top of Nog Nashega. He said that the leprachauns up there could be helping me with that."

     She sighed. "It was like a dream at that. I tricked the king of the leprachauns into giving me three wishes. And I wished for them to take the dreams away, but you heard his answer to that. He was after claiminging that I was his great grand-daughter. Can ye believe it? That he'd seduced my great grandmother when she was in Ireland, after one of her divorces. And he said that my great uncle Paul and my very own grandmother were his children."

     Despite himself, Miguel snorted with laughter. "Not very likely, is it?"

     Ari shrugged. "No. Not at all. Although, it is true that the two of them were born a suspicious length of time after she left her second husband. But then, he had filed for divorce on the evidence of her indescretions, at that. As you can imagine, it's a page of me family history, me mother preferred not to talk about."

     "Anyway, I wished for King Brian to save them from the crash. And then, because I'd won three wishes, I asked for him to give Uncle Paul the traditional pot of gold. That was supposed to be a joke. I was fooling around, because I really couldn't think of anything else to wish for. After that, I was feeling a bit light-headed, so I left."

      Shrugging, she concluded, "And that's that."

     "Not entirely," Miguel corrected, raising her hand up and kissing it, holding it after. "What about the last thing he did. The blessing? The joining?" Ari smiled sadly, getting herself back under control. Difficult to do with her heart beating so hard. Miguel must have heard it as well, for he put his hand over it.

     "You don't have to worry about that, Miguel. I wouldn't think of trying to hold you to it." She gave a little laugh, pulling his hand away from her chest. "That ceremony hasn't been used for the last four or five centuries, I doubt it's legal anywhere in the world, now."

     "Ok," he agreed pleasantly. "But I intend to hold you to it, Ari. Will you repeat it in a Catholic Church, with me beside you?" Ari tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat, staring blankly at the serious sensor chief. He shook her hand gently, then slipped down onto one knee. "Will you marry me, Irene Adler? This time with a priest presiding." Dumbly, disbelieving, Ari just sat there.

     "Oh, I don't mean now, or even soon," he continued. "I don't want you to give up your career for me. But after I pass the officer's test. I know that means that we won't be able to serve on the same vessel anymore, but if that's what it takes," he stopped when she put her hand on his soft, warm lips.

     "You don't really know anything about me, Miguel, about my past. You've never met any of my people, and I haven't met yours. But ... Yes, I'll marry you, Miguel Ortiz, if you're sure that's what you're wanting." She smiled sadly at him and sighed. "I do love you, you know. Silly of me, but there it is." He stood up and grinned down at her.

     "Well, actually, I think that's the first time you've said it. I love you, too, so I'll try to keep reminding you to be silly. And, yes, I'm very, very sure that this is what I want." Reaching down, he raised her up and Ari leaned into his embrace, her arms stretched up to encircle his neck and bring his face down to her level. "And I think you do, too," Miguel murmured, his lips seeking hers. At that moment, Trey Barlow, pushed the door open.

     "Ari, you won't believe what .... Ooops, sorry, excuse me," she spluttered with embarassment, backing out. Miguel and Ari turned around and began to laugh.

     Miguel called out happily, "No, come on in. Congratulate me!" he demanded. "She said yes."

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