Lucky

Chapter 8

Deaglan got little sleep that night. The majority of his night was spent wide awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell he should do.

Up until his conversation with Mac Germait, everything had seemed a little less serious than it was. Yes, he had been told that the fate of the world rested on his shoulders. And he had been told that the Fomorian were coming and that they killed indiscriminately. And of course he had been advised that he would most likely come face to face with them and when he did he would have to either run or die. But it had all seemed a little exaggerated.

And not just that it was exaggerated, but he also felt as if he had a safety net. Mac Germait had always seemed so friendly, so sure of him. Deaglan had honestly assumed that if things didn't go the way that Mac Germait had planned, the Tuatha would realize that he was wrong in trusting Deaglan and let him leave.  

Now that was obviously not the case.

Following his conversation with Mac Germait – although conversation implies there were two sides to the discussion – he sought Kaie out. He didn't even know why, just that he needed someone else to talk to. He found her in the great library, her head bent over a very ancient looking textbook.

"Can I talk to you," he had asked as he fell into the seat opposite her.

She looked up from her book, meeting his eye and offering him a look that suggested that last thing she wanted was to talk to him. "Why?"

"It's...." He grimaced as he tried to think on how best to frame it. Although he didn't even know what 'It' was. "I just spoke to Mac Germait and tomorrow --"

"I'm going to stop you there," she said quickly. She had gone back to looking at her book, pretending to read. "I know Mac Germait has a winning smile and a handsome face --"

"I really don't care how handsome his --"

" -- but his word is law. Whatever he has told you... I'm sorry, Deaglan." She looked up from her book again. This time her expression was soft, almost forgiving. "I really am." And that seemed to be the most she was willing to give. She looked back to her book. Only this time she actually was reading.

Following on from this, Deaglan considered the very real possibility of running. It was the cowardly thing to do, but that was Deaglan. He wasn't a hero and never pretended to be one. Yes there was a brief instance there where he thought that maybe... perhaps... if things went his way... but no. He was a coward, a runner. Heck, he was a Leprechaun and was literally being trained to run.

But then as soon as he began to consider the idea of running, he realized that he had nowhere to go. His house back in Ireland had been destroyed. His grandmother he had discovered was a Selkie, which was an Aos Si that lived in the ocean. The chances were that she was long gone and he would never see her again. And even if he had somewhere to go, he had no way of leaving the Otherworld. The only way out was through a Ghillie Dhu – an ancient Faerie that took on the physical appearance of a tree – but he didn't know where one was, or even if he did he didn't know how to use it.

No, he was stuck in the Otherworld whether he liked it or not.

And thus came the night of little sleep. And when the sun – or whatever it was – crested his window in the morning, pouring light through his bedroom, Deaglan was forced to consider that today might very well be his last. It was a chilling thing to admit to oneself, and didn't make climbing from bed any easier.

Deaglan met Mac Germait and Mac Loran in the barbican by the main portcullis at the entrance to the city. He had only been there one other time, and that was on his first ever day in Falias. The two Tuatha looked nonplussed by his arrival, seemingly indifferent to what it was that they were asking him to do. Or rather forcing him.