A Place Beyond The Map Page 7

  “I trust that we can now move forward without further questions, yes?” The judge smiled as he spoke thus, his yellowing teeth shining in the torch-lit chamber. The juror who questioned the authority if the court now stood and again bowed deeply in the direction of the bench.

  “I beg the court’s pardon, Your Honor. The jury is of course satisfied with this charge.” So saying, the juror reclaimed his seat, casting a troubled glance in the direction of Periwinkle. The judge nodded in the direction of the jury.

  “The court is pleased that the jury is satisfied with the evidence as presented. The court will now consider the charge – “

  “Half a moment, if I may,” Periwinkle interrupted, raising his hand with a clatter of chain.

  The glowering face of the judge darkened as he regarded the purple-haired Faë.

  “You wish to confess your guilt, perhaps, or beg for the mercy of the court?” he asked, although with little conviction in his tone. Phinnegan sensed that Periwinkle had one card left to play.

  “Hardly,” Periwinkle scoffed. “But I do have a question regarding the evidence that has been presented against me; a question which it is my right to ask.”

  “Oh, is that it then? What could you possible question? Do you deny the charges? Impossible. I am afraid that the dictations of time mandate that your request be denied. The jury has been patient enough through the…difficulties already experienced here today, and I will not further extend their duty by entertaining your lies. Your words would serve only to delay this court from performing –“

  “Impossible? On the contrary, it is very possible. I do believe that my right to question the evidence presented is solidified in the case of Robin v. Cardinal, is it not? Need I go through the court’s holding and reasoning in that case?”

  Periwinkle smiled mischeviously and Phinnegan thought that he was quite calm for one who had, in his opinion, done exactly as the bailiff had recounted, which appeared to be a very high crime amongst the Faë. Phinnegan was sure that the Faë was doomed and had begun to wonder at his own fate. But it appeared as though Periwinkle was right, for though he grumbled and harrumphed, the judge pushed himself back in his chair and signaled for Periwinkle to continue.

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Periwinkle turned to face the jury, a finger pressed into the dimple on his chin.

  “I must confess that I am rather confused about one aspect of this court’s case against me, and that aspect reflects on the question asked just earlier by you, good sir.” He pointed to the juror who had stood to challenge the evidence.

  “I am quite perplexed as to how it is that this court knew I had activated the wishing stone.”

  The judge barked a laugh, clearly relieved by the question.

  “How we knew? Why, Periwinkle, I am surprised at you! Could you not guess that given your record of rebellion and crimes against his Highness that we would not be monitoring your stone and other means of communication?”

  Members of the jury snorted as they regarded the purple-haired Faë, snagged by such a simple surveillance tool of the court.

  “You had all of the proper warrants to watch me thus, I presume?” Periwinkle asked the judge.

  “Of course,” the judge replied, holding up a yellowed document with a large wax stamp in the lower right corner.

  “May I see it?”

  The judge’s eyes narrowed and he considered Periwinkle’s request for a brief moment before finally sighing heavily.

  “I suppose it can do no harm. Perhaps it will convince you to hasten the end of this nonsense.” He leaned over the edge of the bench, holding the parchment out to the bailiff who reached up to accept it. He carried the paper to Periwinkle who took it and studied it for a few moments before nodding his head.

  “Everything looks to be in order, for this stone at least. However, where is the warrant for the other stone?”

  “What do you mean the other stone?” a female member of the jury questioned.

  “Well, the warrant is for the stone owned by one Periwinkle Lark, that would be me of course, but if the jury would permit me a moment,” he paused and dug his hand deep into the pocket of his black trousers, which was no easy task given the shackle upon his wrist. At length he produced a round, white stone, which Phinnegan recognized as the wishing stone he had seen in the clearing beside the wych elm; the very stone that had brought him to this strange place. Periwinkle held the stone up for all to see.

  “If the court will indulge me but a moment?”

  “Get on with it then!” the judge snapped.

  Periwinkle held the stone before him in an open hand. He spoke clearly and loudly enough for everyone in the chamber to hear him.

  “Spirit, who is your master?”

  To Phinnegan’s surprise, the stone spoke. A feminine voice, lazy and humming.

  My mistress is Emerald Wren.

  Gasps and murmurs spread through the jury and the judge banged his gavel on the bench.

  “Quiet, I say! What devilry is this?”

  “No devilry, Your Honor. You must know that a stone cannot be tricked to speak that which is not true. You have heard from this Spirit just as clearly as I have that it is not my stone.”

  The judge’s mouth worked silently, opening and closing as his mind raced to find the words he sought.

  “But…but, but this is preposterous! Do you expect this court to believe that –“

  “I expect this court to believe nothing that is not true,” Periwinkle replied. Turning to the jury he gestured with the stone in his hands

  “You have all heard this stone speak the truth. The stone I carry is not my stone.”

  The male Faë in the jury who had questioned the court’s authority earlier, stood and directed a question to the stone.

  “Spirit, where were you last activated?”

  The stone was quiet for a moment, a delay just the length one would need to ponder the answer to a rather simple question.

  Ballyknockan, Ireland.

  A second series of whispers passed through the jury, but the juror who stood waved for them to hold their tongues.

  “Spirit, who activated you?”

  Again a brief pause, and then the answer came.

  Periwinkle Lark.

  “There, you see!” the judge cried, rising from his chair and pointing a shaky finger at Periwinkle. “The stone has confirmed the truth of the charges. Jury, I order you to –“

  “Not so fast,” the juror said, raising a hand to forestall the judge.

  “Silence! This nonsense is at an end,” the judge bellowed. But again the juror interrupted.

  “I am afraid that is all too true.” He turned to face Periwinkle and with a heavy sigh and snap of his fingers, the chains on Periwinkle’s wrists and ankles vanished.

  “Periwinkle Lark, this court begs your pardon. You are free to leave. You will not be hindered.”

  The judge, his face purple with rage and his beady eyes now large and wide, yelled at the juror.

  “What is the meaning of this! You hold no power to release the Accused. I command you to sentence this man as his crime befits!”

  “We cannot punish him, Julius. It is over,” the juror said. The judge laughed.

  “The devil I can’t! Bailiff, arrest that Faë!”

  The members of the jury gasped at the judge’s order to arrest one of their own. But the juror held his ground, fixing a cold stare upon the bailiff.

  “Hold your place, bailiff. You know the law, even if His Honor, does not.” He spoke the honorific with a sneer and then glared at the judge.

  “The law?! He has broken the law! He has said nearly so much and the stone has confirmed what he hasn’t.”

  “That may be true, but your warrant is invalid. The warrant was to survey the stone of Periwinkle Lark. This stone belongs to Emerald Wren. Unless you have a second warrant, you had no authority to arrest him, regardless of the fact that he did break the law, because your surveillance of that stone was illegal.
I wonder, too, what His Majesty would think about this.”

  The judge’s right eyelid twitched and his lips flubbed and blubbered as he sputtered.

  “Th-that’s preposterous! He is guilty, anyone can see that. For the last time, I order you to-“

  The juror held up a hand.

  “Do you have a warrant for the stone of Emerald Wren?”

  Now completely flustered, the judge tore through the papers on his desk. Finding nothing he looked to the bailiff, who shrugged and cast his eyes to the floor. The judge looked back and forth between the bailiff and the juror.

  “But…”

  The juror sighed and gestured for his comrades to rise. He turned to face Periwinkle Lark, whose face now bore the wide grin of which Phinnegan had grown so fond.

  “Free?” he asked, looking to the juror who confirmed with a grimace.

  “Unfortunately.”

  Periwinkle wasted no time and as quick as a flash, had leapt from the wooden dais that had served as his prison during this short and ill-fated trial. He landed only a foot from Phinnegan, whose arm he grasped in his left hand.

  Flashing one last grin in the direction of the judge, who stared in bewilderment at the events unfolding in the court of Féradoon.

  “Until we meet again, Jay.”

  And then for the second time in only a few hours, Phinnegan and the purple-haired Faë vanished.

  CHAPTER 9

  A Place Beyond The Map

  Phinnegan landed with a soft thud on a bed of bright-green grass, more lush than any he had ever seen, even in the rolling hillsides of Ireland. The air was thick with a sweet scent that he could not place, but that triggered a host of happy memories in his mind. He saw his grandfather on his 80th birthday. And then, the day when he first learned to ride a horse.

  Memory after memory assaulted his mind, each more real and tangible than the last. His mind felt fuzzy and slow, but he did not care. He was happy, the tense hours spent in the mountain of Féradoon were far from his thoughts. Closing his eyes, he embraced the memories that filled his mind with happy pictures. His breathing slowed, and then slowed again. He felt very sleepy and felt himself longing for a nap, a promise of happy dreams awaiting him.

  A hand grasped his arm, tugging. He resisted, but the arm pulled harder. The arm dragged him for a few inches on his back before he brought himself to his feet. A distant voice called to him, speaking his name and telling him to follow it, but his eyes were closed and he was lost to his dreams. But the hand would not relent and soon he felt himself being pulled forward, stumbling along in blindness.

  After wobbling along for a few minutes guided by the unseen hand, his mind began to clear and he opened his eyes. The hand that held his arm was that of Periwinkle Lark. Phinnegan blinked several times, clearing the sleepiness from his eyes.

  “What happened?” he asked with a yawn.

  “Papavers.”

  Phinnegan withdrew his arm from Periwinkle’s grasp and rubbed his eyes.

  “Papavers? Is that a person?”

  “Not at all, mate. It’s a flower. They are mostly called dream flowers. Poppies, you would call them in your world, although poppies don’t have the strength of these flowers. Papavers are quite dangerous if you haven’t built up immunity to them, which most Faë have, before they Change, anyway. That’s why I brought us here, in case any of those buggers thought they would try and follow. The Aged are very susceptible to the Papaver dream-sleep and it would have knocked them right on their arses before you could say your aunt was a boggart.”

  Phinnegan looked back over his shoulder, but he saw no sign of any flowers.

  “I don’t see any flowers.”

  Periwinkle turned and winked a bright-purple eye.

  “That’s because they are invisible. To you anyway; and to Aged. That makes them all the more dangerous. Faë never come here after they Change, it’s too perilous. Only the Young venture here.”

  “What’s this Change and Aged business? And why did those other Faë look so…human? And are you really over three-hundred years old?”

  “Settle down, mate, settle down.” The Faë’s laugh was a beautiful sound, but it died on his lips as he surveyed the southern sky. Phinnegan followed his gaze to see a great red sun low in the sky and drawing closer to the horizon.

  “Come on then, let’s go. We’ll be pushing sunset as it is.”

  “What happens at sunset?” Phinnegan asked, returning his attention to the direction of their travel. Periwinkle glanced back over his shoulder.

  “Best you never have to find out, mate. Flowers aren’t the worst of what’s to be found out there. Crimson’s place is a mile or so beyond the woods.” He slowed to fix his gaze on Phinnegan over his shoulder. “And we definitely don’t want to be in the woods at night.”

  “Is Crimson a friend of yours? And what’s in the woods?”

  But Periwinkle did not answer at first and the two trekked through the steadily heightening grass for several minutes before he responded.

  “He’s an acquaintance, shall we say. Friend may be a bit strong, but he owes me a favor, he does. And as for the woods, again, hope you don’t have to find out.”

  They walked on for half an hour or more and Phinnegan nearly asked the Faë to answer the questions he had posed earlier. But something in the Faë’s demeanor told him it was best to hold his tongue. He did not like Periwinkle being this silent. He had so many questions.

  And he wanted to go home.

  “When can I go home?”

  The Faë missed a step, but recovered quickly and answered.

  “All in good time, mate. That’s one of the reasons we need to get to Crimson’s.”

  After another hundred yards, they cleared the top of a small hill and there before them was the densest, blackest forest Phinnegan had ever seen. It was not green and beautiful like the forests of Ireland. The trees bore few leaves and the trunks were thick and gnarled. Remembering the Faë’s warning, Phinnegan checked the height of the sun and saw that it had dipped nearly to the edge of the horizon. He spoke his concern to the Faë.

  “Do you think we should go in there? It looks terribly…scary. And it’s almost sunset.”

  “Well we don’t want to be caught out here either. I think we can make it.” He turned to look at Phinnegan, appraising him from head to toe.

  “Can you run fast?”

  Phinnegan, not the most athletic of boys, could, in fact, run quite fast. However, he did not like the fact that the Faë thought it important to ask that question.

  “I can run,” he said, pointing to the forest. “But can we even see in there? It looks almost black.”

  “Darkwater Forest. Nasty place, that. But as long as we stick to the path we’ll be fine. No more than half an hour to the other side.” Periwinkle checked the sun once more. “We should just make it. Come on.”

  Phinnegan strode forward to catch up with the Faë, who had sprung off with a gait that was quite fast but looked effortless as he moved towards the forest. In a minute or two they reached the forest’s edge. Phinnegan tilted his head back, looking up to the tops of the trees, out of sight in a thick fog that was quickly forming high in the forest.

  “That fog will be down here soon enough. Best be moving quick, like.”

  The Faë moved swiftly into the woods and Phinnegan took long, awkward strides to keep pace. The Faë’s movements were nimble and he seemed to bound with each step. Phinnegan marveled at his grace, so much so that less than twenty yards into the woods, he caught his foot on an exposed root and went crashing to the forest floor. Periwinkle appeared at his side in a moment to offer him a hand.

  “Watch your step, mate. And stay on the path. Whatever you do, stay on the path.” Phinnegan opened his mouth to ask a question, but the Faë raised his hand to forestall him.

  “Just do it. Stay on the path.”

  Phinnegan nodded his understanding and then they were off again.

  The forest was even darker
than Phinnegan had expected from the foreboding presence it held from a distance. Looking up, he could only catch glimpses of the sky now and then. The setting sun provided just enough light for him to follow the Faë out in front and to mind the path.

  They walked for some ten minutes or so, nearly half the time that Periwinkle had suggested it would take to cross the forest, before they heard the first howl. Phinnegan yelped when he heard it, a ghostly presence that seemed at once far away and right off the path. A second howl answered from the opposite side, sounding the same eerie, confused distance.

  “I don’t suppose that those are friendly, are they?” Phinnegan asked, the slightest bit of hope in his voice.

  But the Faë shook his head.

  “Faolchú are not exactly what you might call friendly. More like deadly.”

  “Faolchú? Wild hounds?” Phinnegan recognized the word as one his grandfather had taught him, his attempt to keep his country’s native tongue from heading toward extinction.

  “That’s right. Their kind has infested Darkwater for centuries. Vicious, foul creatures; they hunt and kill anything that enters their forest. Exceedingly difficult to kill, they are, and impossible to escape amongst these trees. Though we Faë have a few tricks that will do in a pinch.”

  “Where did they come from?”

  “The Devil himself if you ask me,” Periwinkle said under his breath. He stepped lightly over a felled tree before turning to smile over his shoulder at Phinnegan.

  “But not to worry. We’ll be all right if we don’t step off the path. They know we are here, but they cannot see us.”

  “Why not?”

  “The path. An old Faë charm protects those that stay on it, at least while the sun’s still out. It’s sort of a camouflage. But their eyesight is much stronger in the night and they can make out movement even with the charm in effect.” Pausing, Periwinkle checked the intensity of the light filtering through the gnarled treetops. “We should make it to the other side before nightfall.”