Tír na nÓg Trilogy, Book II: The Rising Dark

Oonagh Moves In

If a few months ago Emery had been asked to describe the desired projection of her life, she undoubtedly would have said something cliché, something about being admitted into a prestigious university, enjoying college life, getting a meaningful job, traveling the world, finding an amazing partner, getting married and having kids . . . growing old with the one she loved. It wouldn't have been anything beyond ordinary, and yet it would've been perfectly wonderful to her. Where she was now, not one of those ideas about where life was going to take her seemed at all possible.

Staring out into a cold evening from the doorway of a cold building, she thought only of how much she wished she'd brought her feather comforter with her before traveling through that portal in the woods back in time to this place. She'd suggest to Cathbad that he return and get it for her, but the druid had informed her that he'd dissolved the time-traveling wormhole the minute they'd all returned; it'd become unstable, he'd said. And she had no reason to doubt him, though she really did want that feather comforter. And her pillow. And another pair of jeans. And a handheld mirror. And more personal hygiene products. And more of that cereal she used to eat every morning, the one with the peanut butter and chocolate puffs . . . and, and, and. The truth was, Emery couldn't go ten minutes without wishing she could return to the conveniences and comforts of her previous life, even though she'd been in this ancient world no more than a few days (though it was difficult to keep track without anything like school to denote weeks and weekends). Also frustrating was the lack of entertainment. Without a phone or a television, a computer or stores, how was she supposed to occupy her time? Thank God Tess had been waiting for her on the other side of that portal when she'd gone through it, or who knew how she'd have coped.

Here's how it had happened. Emery had had to endure two unpleasant sensations when traveling to this primeval place: first, the jittery ticklishness of stepping through the portal, and second, the pressure of Cullen's firm hand gripping her own. The very moment their journey had ended (and, thankfully, it had been practically instantaneous), she'd reclaimed her hand and stepped out of the dolmen rock structure and into the light by herself. Whatever her supposed-husband thought of that, she didn't know, and, frankly, she didn't care.

Tess had been standing on a giant rock, surrounded by crevices of hardy grass, and had leapt down to Emery the moment they'd spotted one another. Nothing had felt more comforting than Tess's hug. "You're the only reason I think I can do this," Emery had immediately told her, and the girls had embraced again.

From there, Cathbad had transported them--first the girls, and then Cullen--to a strange sort of village fortress Emery had soon learned was called Dun-Dealgan. It wasn't what she'd envisioned, seeing the Red Branch Knights and their attire and weapons in her previous life; she'd pictured castles and kings and queens and jousting. But clearly, her historical knowledge was lacking. This place was not some romantic medieval movie set—it was old. As in Iron Age old. And it was drafty. And it was quiet. Dun-Dealgan was on what was probably a man-made hill, with a deep ditch followed by raised earth ridges and palisades that led high up to and surrounded the flat top. A wall of stone and wooden poles ran around the perimeter, enclosing a vast area, and there was at least one tower gate that she knew of, as it was the one they'd entered (both she and Tess had been perturbed to find several heads hanging from it). Within the walls were many structures, like a whole village inside. Most of the main buildings were circular, with earthen walls and long, sloping thatched roofs, some of which almost touched the ground. These were mostly residential dwellings, and they did have a sort of simplicity to them that could be considered charming. The largest of these roundhouses, Lord Cuchulain's, was set atop a platform accessible only by a footbridge. It was built up tall with stone and was actually quite grand, though Emery had not yet seen inside it.