Miguel heard the arguing voices, including his own, fade behind him as he tracked the wisps of mists waving in the breeze that were the only sign of Ari's passage through the grey, pearlescent fog. As soon as the first snide comment had been spoken, he'd felt her step away from his side. Something about the movement had seemed surreptious and he had decided to follow her silent withdrawal, curious as to her real reasons for wanting to climb this hill in the first place. For the past week, she'd been behaving oddly, as if something was weighing on her mind. It was almost as if she were saying goodbye. The way she'd manuevered Brody into ordering this hike implied that it was important to her. And Miguel was determined to find out just what she was up to. While he was musing, he took wone step through the obscuring dimness into clear space with such startling suddeness that he was left blinking in the bright light. The clear, empty space.
Puzzled, he peered around, checking the openings in the mossy green, weathered, piled-up stones, the remains of ancient fortifications. Inside the old building, surrounded by the best preserved walls of the structure, was an old uncovered well. From the looks of the remaining foundations, this well head must have been located inside the fort, maybe even inside the keep, itself. The trained fighter in the young sailor approved, even as the worried lover looked about anxiously for signs of his girl. He prowled among the large standing blocks, looking for some indication of where she might have gone. He'd been right on her heels, she couldn't be very far.
Coming outside the circle of free standing walls, he found that the fog they'd been lost in had blown away. As he circled the remains, looking down the hillside to see if he could spot her, he found himself approving of the view. Anyone trying to defend this spot could easily see attackers long before they got within striking distance, and firing down the gravity well was a lot easier than trying to get missiles up. He noticed Brody and Henderson wandering around about half-way up the slope. With the fog gone, he would have thought they would look up and see him and climb up, but they didn't seem to notice. He waved and called out with no response, they continued to plod on around, ignoring him. With a shrug, Miguel circled the outer perimeter of the ancient tower himself. No sign of Ari. None of Tim or Trey either, for that matter.
Shrugging his muscular shoulders a little, he approached the well. Putting both hands on the waist high, stone barrier, Miguel leaned over cautiously, trying to peer down the dark hole. Stooping to pick up a pebble from the ground, he dropped it in, listening for the splash, trying to estimate the depth of the shaft. Instead, he heard, "OW! What're ye think ye're doing up there? Ye could have brained me, at that!"
Like a ball shot from a cannon, a small projectile came barreling straight up out of the opening, right up under the sensor man's nose, causing him to fall over backwards onto his bottom with surprise. It stood on the top of the well lip and resolved itself into a little, man-like figure, regarding him with as much confusion as Miguel felt at the sight of it.
The small figure recovered first, bending forward, balancing on his crooked cane, to peer suspiciously at the sensor chief. "Ere now, where is it ye be coming from, eh?" he asked. Miguel just sat there feeling dumbfounded, wondering how the trick was done.
It looked like an old man, about 50 years old, wearing a pair of brown tweed knickers with a matching cap, a plain shirt under a fawn corduroy coat with leather elbow patches and biting down on the stem of an illegal pipe, the smoke from it puffing out of his mouth. That is, if such a man could be only two feet tall and tough as the shillelagh in his hand. "Weel then, explain ye'sel!" the gnarled, querulous figure demanded around the obstruction of the pipe.
Miguel got up to his knees, reaching up to touch the manniken with one hand. It immediately somersaulted over the well opening and balanced easily on the other side. "Ah, ye shan't be gettin me pot o' gold that easily," he crowed. "Ye'll need to be a might more canny than that!" Miguel sat back on his heels.
"You're supposed to be a leprachaun?" he asked dubiously.
"No! I'm supposed to be the tooth fairy," the wee man mocked him back, adding indignantly, "Of course I'm a leprechaun! What did ye think?" His tone of voice expressed doubt that the man before him was capable of the exercise.
Miguel looked around skeptically, now certain that he knew where his friends were. "All right Ari!" he yelled, secure in his knowledge as to whom the ringleader would be. "Tim, Trey! You can come out now! I'm impressed. I'm very impressed. And when I get hold of you, Ari Adler, I'll do some impressing of my own. Now, drop the joke and come show me how you're doing it!"
"Ahhhh!" the small figure looked enlightened. "So, ye're with the ither pore souls lost in the fog," he said sanctimoniously. Leaning forward on his cane, he asked with malicious curiousity, "How'd ye escape the traps and fascinations, at that? Ye've no smell of the charms of the white Christ aboot ye and none yet of cold iron. How'd ye do it?"
"Look, I don't know what you're talking about. My crewmates and I were hiking to the top of the hill when we got lost in some fog, like you said. One of us took off in the wrong direction, and I followed her. Have you seen her? She's very short and ...." He stopped, suddenly realizing that to a being of less than a yard in height, Ari would be enormous. "She's about yea tall," he held his hand at his shoulder height. "With soft, short, fair brown curls and bright blue eyes. She's dressed about the same as I am."
"Naw, I've seen naught like that," the soi-distant leprachaun denied, but his eyes flicked down into the darkness of the opening. It was done so quickly that if Miguel hadn't been watching him closely, he would have missed the glance.
"She's down there! Did she fall?" Alarumed, he stood up, taking out his flash and using it to probe the depths, playing it along the sides, checking for foot and hand holds. The leprachaun jumped away. Satisfied that it was possible to climb down, Miguel opened the heavy hiking pack that Brody had insisted on, and took out a length of rope.
The supposed leprachaun seated himself on a nearby rock and stabbed the air in his direction with the stem of his pipe, fingers curled loosely about the bowl. The smoke floated toward the intent sailor. "So, this is one ye'd follow even into the bowels of the earth? I hope she's main worth it."
Tying one end around the trunk of a tree that had sprouted next to the well, Miguel answered abstractly. "Oh, she's worth it all right. She's the bravest, truest, smartest girl you can imagine. Anyway, I'd do the same for any crewmate." He was beginning to feel a trifle light-headed, and wondered just what the pipe was burning. Did tobacco really make you feel this way? No wonder it was so addictive.
"Oh, aye." the figure agreed sarcastically. "Of that I'm sure ye would." And he laughed. Miguel ignored him, shining the light around inside one last time. With a dubious look at the lounging, laughing figure, he dropped the free end of the rope down the hole and climbed over and inside, feeling distinctly odd and floating. Concentrating took more effort than he usually needed. But he began to let himself down in a controlled into the darkness.
It was easy going, and Miguel was congratulating himself on that point when the rope became slack in his hands, undone at the top, and he was falling. The bottom rushed up to meet him and he knew no more until ...
Awareness arrived with pain and the sound of voices arguing. More arguments. Eyes closed, he identified Ari Adler's voice, but her opponent was no one he'd ever heard before. Either a woman with a very low voice or a man with a high tenor. It sounded untrustworthy, sly and tricky, with an underlying laughing tone to it as if nothing was quite real.
"You didn't grant either of my two wishes, you little fraud! And I won them fair and square!" Ari was stating vehemently.
"Now, Airenay Adler, child. That's just not true. I did give your uncle a pot of gold now, didn't I?" The voice argued persuasively.
"You did not!" she contested hotly. "And anyway ..."
"Sure and I did. A lovely little pot, decorated with sapphire and pearl daisies. And he'd been keeping it in the best guest room now, hasn't he? Inside the matching dry sink." Ari gasped.
"The Marie Antoinette chamberpot? You sent that to Uncle Paul? Why you little cheat!"
"Now, why would you be saying that, lass. It was a pot of gold, now wasn't it?" the laughter was very near the surface.
"And anyway!" Ari repeated her earlier words loudly, as if trying to get the conversation on some determined track. "What about my family?"
There was a moment's silence. During this time, Miguel opened his eyes and focused blearily on the arched ceiling, decorated with vaults and columns. The dry, hard surface beneath him proved to be a flagstoned passage. Trying to push himself up, to find out from where the voices were coming, he discovered that he was tied, hand and foot, with his own rope. Somehow, that last seemed to be the ultimate insult. His head hurt, but the headache seemed to be more of a hangover than a blow.
"You said that you would keep them safe," Ari's voice continued after the pause, with a suppressed sob. Miguel began to work at his bonds, trying to undo them, to get to her.
"Now, child, I tried ... Yes? What is it?" Miguel heard the buzz of a quiet exchange. "The prisoner's awake. Good, good. Keep an eye on him."
"What prisoner?" Ari demanded trenchantly.
"Nothing to do with you, my dear Airenay. Nothing to do with you." Miguel raised his head and yelled as loudly as he could.
"ARI!" He heard her gasp, and call back, "Miguel?" Opening his mouth to answer, it suddenly snapped shut against his will and his eyes closed tight. Small hands started to pick him up, but he heard running footsteps and felt himself dropped as she knelt beside him.
"Oh, Miguel! What are you doing here?" she asked, starting to untie the knots at his wrists.
"I came looking for you, fell down a hole in the ground. Are you all right? Why'd you wander away like that?" Ari removed the last of the bonds at his hands and sat back preparing to move down to untie his feet. But he grabbed her hands before she could entirely withdraw them and sat up, drawing her close for a passionate kiss. For a moment, they lost themselves in their awareness of each other, then a voice called them back to the madness that was currently passing for reality.
"Or maybe it does," the amused voice corrected itself from somewhere down around Miguel's feet. He looked toward it. A small, roly-poly, jolly-looking male figure stood there, no more than two and a half feet tall. His red beard was a neat roll around his jaw line, otherwise, his face was clean-shaven. The little gold crown on his head rested upon a soft cloud of hair the same colour.
He wore an ornate green coat with tails, and green knee breeches with white silk stockings, a white shirt and an elaborately figured waistcoat. A gemmed gold chain encircled his neck and his shoes had decorative gold buckles on the tops of them. Miguel stared at the sight, but his companion seemed unimpressed, shoving the tiny man out of the way unceremoniously so she could get to the bindings on the chief's ankles. Miguel bent down to help, but got his hands slapped away as well, much more playfully. He began coiling the loose rope, eyeing the little man with a speculative eye.
"Well, Airenay, child. Introduce me to your young man," the leprachaun ordered. Ari waited until she'd finished her task, gathering the rope up and handing it to Miguel. He knew that she was delaying her answer to emphasize her dislike for the wee person. Standing up, Ari offered her hand to Miguel and they both stood, looking down at the tiny figure.
"King Brian of Nog Nashega, this is Senior Chief Petty Officer Miguel Ortiz. Miguel, this is Brian, King of the Leprachauns, con man extraordinaire, liar, fraud and cheat."
Laying his hand to his heart with an expression of pain on his face, the king responded, "Ah, lass, you wound me to the quick you do." To Miguel, he added, "Pleased to make your acquaintance, young sir."
"Ari, what's going on?" Miguel asked quietly, bending to speak into her ear.
"What's going on, Senior Chief Petty Officer Miguel Ortiz, is that the lass has one last wish to make and she has come to claim it." King Brian leapt straight up to an outcropping in the wall, about four feet high, putting them on level with one another. "Isn't that right, my dear."
"No, it isn't and I'm not your dear. You might be able to claim that you fulfilled one wish, your Majesty, in an underhanded, sneaky and tricky way. But there's no answer you can make for the other. You said that you would save my family." He looked extremely sad at this.
"Ari, where are we?" Miguel persisted. She turned to him, opening her mouth to answer, but the leprachaun again responded before she could speak.
"You're inside Nog Nashega, the hollow hill, itself. In the realm of Faerie and my very own kingdom." The resplendant figure bowed his head slightly. "And here you'll stay."
"Oh, no we won't," Ari contradicted hotly. "We're leaving. And we might as well go now." She turned to the sensor man, putting her hand on his chest. "Miguel, I'm sorry if I led you into this. I don't even know why I wanted to come. There's nothing here for me." He encircled her waist with his arms, responding to the deep unhappiness in her voice and bearing. And he watched King Brian closely. The leprachaun looked alarmed at the thought.
"You can't do that!" he protested. "I've waited eight years to grant your third wish, you can't make me wait another ten!" The small ensign turned viciously on him, safe in the circle of Miguel's arms.
"I can make you wait an eternity, you wee caitliff!" she hissed at him. leaning forward slightly. "You cheated me! You robbed me of my family! I hope you suffer!" Turning back to the perplexed sensor operator, she said in a very different voice, "Let's go, Miguel."
"I'm afraid that he can't be going with you, my dear. As a full mortal inside the hill, he's subject to the rules. He must stay and serve us for seven years." Miguel ignored him, taking Ari's elbow.
"Do you know the way out?" he asked. "I was unconscious when I was
brought in." She nodded her head.
"You can't leave. I won't let you." Miguel spared the small, glittering figure a brief glance. One of the leprachaun king's subjects was bouncing about below him, trying to get the attention of his sovereign. But the tiny tyrant ignored the gesticulating figure. Miguel eyed the smaller figure for a moment, wondering why it looked familiar.
"Just try to stop us," he challenged, then turned back to Ari. It occured to him that the frustrated messager was probably the one who had untied the rope and dropped him down the well.
Before the king could respond to the challenge, a rolicking violin tune began to play and King Brian perked up his ears, his face brightening. "The Fox Hunt!" he cried gleefully. "Sound the horns." To the young couple, he said with dignity, "I'll discuss this matter with you when I return. At my convenience." The music rose, crescendoing and a hunting horn cried from the depths of the earth. In answer to the call, the king began to jig in place, dancing from one foot to the other. A troop of miniature horses, no larger than greyhound dogs galloped past, parting around the legs of the SeaQuest sailors and King Brian leapt from his high perch and landed in the saddle of the lead horse. Yelling and calling, he urged it onward.
Miguel exchanged a wondering, curious glance with Ari and reached out to take her hand before following the last of the steeds into a large hall, large by any standards. It was filled with objects crafted of glowing gold and shining silver, decorated with glittering gems everywhere. An odd cannon or two stood here and there, their stolid, threatening, no-nonsense blackness very out of place in the collection. An oversized huge throne was set in the centre of the hall, on a podium. But the highest spot, the focal point of the room and the place of honour was reserved for a beautiful golden harp. standing silent, shimmering with a light all of its own. The music came from a violin played by of a old, human man standing next to the throne on the riser. After a few moments of staring blankly, Miguel recognized the aged storyteller from the pub.
As he bowed and sawed, the herd of miniature horses swirled around him wildly, and leprachauns leapt from the perimeter into the saddle, following their cheerful ruler. As the last one took up the reins, a large crack opened on one side of the room and the hunt rode out with yelling and calling, horns crying and dogs, before now unseen, baying the prey. Wearing a smile of sly satisfaction, the old man played until the last had ridden through, then nodded toward the opening.
"Better hurry, you two," he advised. "It doesn't stay open very long. Go on, then, go!" Ari looked toward Miguel, gently disengaging her hand from his and approaching wizen musician.
"Come with us, Darby," she offered. "You don't belong here. You should be with your own kind." But Darby shook his head sorrowingly.
"Nah then. This is where it is I belong, now, lass," he claimed. "Wi' me Katie dead and gone, I've no one out there. Besides which, without the magic of Brian of Nog Nashega, I'd be dust and gone mesel' before the day was out. But the two of ye don't belong here. Ye belong up with the air and sunlight." Ari began to smile at the irony of this statement when, as if to punctuate the thought, the opening snapped closed with a loud crack.
