Chapter 4

Eibhlin could never quite describe the experience of traveling through a fairy door. It left much in her mind, but no clear likeness through which to bring it from the sensational to the sensory. Like magic in the abstract. The most she could explain was feeling a slight pull. Beyond that, all sense memories sifted together, leaving behind only a vague impression she couldn’t grasp or separate.

Then she found herself caged in darkness. At first, fear rose, and she threw out her arms to find any guide for her senses. Her hands touched smoothed wood. She pressed against the wood, and something creaked. Pushing a little harder, the wood swung outward, revealing a clean, barren room. On the far side of the room stood a dark wood door carved with leaves and vines along the edges and some sort of so-lar symbol in its center. Fully opening her own door, she started stepping through when the far door suddenly swung open. Standing in the threshold, practically hanging from the handle, was a young boy with dark hair, silver eyes, and pointed ears.

Eibhlin didn’t know what to say. Here she was coming through a stranger’s door, and an interior door at that, judging from the room, in what was probably an elf’s home, since elves rarely brought small children beyond their own borders. Feeling her stomach churn under the child’s stare, Eibhlin said, “Hello, um… I went through a fairy door, and it led me here. I’m not trying to break in or anything. This is just where the road ended, you see, so, well, I’m sorry if I scared you.”

In response, the child ran off, yelling in a language Eibhlin couldn’t understand. Eibhlin groaned. She hadn’t considered language barriers. Hopefully someone in the area understood fairy doors so she wouldn’t need to try explaining her presence. As she stepped past her door, Eibhlin nearly fell as she found the floor farther down than expected. Turning, she saw she had just entered the room from the slightly raised door of a large wardrobe. She groaned again and hoped even more that someone here understood fairy doors.

The sound of approaching feet returned her attention to the far door. She saw the child again and be-hind him a lithe man that among humans might be in his early thirties, but his youthful appearance didn’t match the age in his eyes. The adult elf entered the room, the child holding his hand. Stopping in front of her, he looked first toward Eibhlin and then toward the wardrobe. Eibhlin didn’t know if she should speak when she didn’t know if he could understand her.

Then, much to her relief, he said in her own language, “Elkir said a human of Enbár had come through Mealla’s wardrobe, but it’s still surprising. Would you mind explaining yourself, please?”

“You know Mealla?” said Eibhlin.

The elf smiled. “In a way, yes, though not usually by that name. It’s a very human name.”

“Is it? I heard it from the fairy that connected an-other fairy door to this one. I need to speak with Mealla, and she, the other fairy, said coming here is the first step.”

“Did she?” said the elf, looking from Eibhlin to the wardrobe and back. “Well, I suppose further explana-tion can wait till we get you some rest and nourish-ment. Come, come. A trip through a fairy road is no light task, especially for a human. Follow me. By the way, Miss, what’s your name?”

For a moment, Eibhlin’s eyes met the elf’s, and the glimpse of aged silver brought to mind stories saying elves can read through lies. Her muscles tensed, but she gave a simple, “I’m Eibhlin. And you are?”

Motioning to himself and then to the child, he said, “I am Chensil, and this is my son, Elkir. I’m the caretaker of Mealla’s road in this settlement.”

Down hall after hall they went, short stone tunnels leading to room after room. More than once, Eibhlin looked out thin windows and saw rows of windows much like their own or, sometimes, wide-trunked trees and undergrowth, but she and her guides did not stop for a more careful look. As halls crossed their own, Chensil turned corners with the confidence of familiarity. Eventually, they came to a wide room with a high, domed ceiling carved with leaves and waves transitioning to clouds and fire. Above those were the seven heavenly spheres circling skylights patterned after the fixed stars and their constellations. Eibhlin had just found the Western Leadstar when she and her guides left through decorated double doors into the outside.

They stood at the top of a small, stone stairway facing short houses with wooden roofs scattered across a flat prairie of tall grass and taller flowers. Unlike in a proper town, the grass had not been cleared to make way for the houses. Roads roughly cobbled with river stones cut through the grass from house to house, the knee-high grass resembling the stone walls that sometimes bordered roads back home, disrupted only where vanity paths wore down the grass. Alongside everything ran a broad, slow river, across which she saw nothing but prairie and sky. There was a subdued wildness to combination of those scattered houses, the unkept and untilled ground, and the wide expanse of grass and sky, as if the community sat along some border as easily crossed as the grass walls to their roads. From their vantage point on the steps, Eibhlin saw several elves going about their business from house to house as children ran through the grass or splashed and fished in the river.

“Not much to look at, is it?”

Eibhlin turned to Chensil. “I think it’s pretty, and I’ve never seen the sky look so big!”

“Well, we can’t take credit for the sky, now can we?” he said. “But we like it here. It’s open, where most of our brethren prefer enclosed spaces and trees that block the sky. Some of us, though, prefer to know the sun and moon and stars. We’re a bit more like the Fae, in that way, than the Mortal Realm.”