Chapter 7
Ragnar of the Red Rock stepped out of the dark portal gate and into a thicket of damp woods still in deep shadow by a Verden dawn's overcast sky. He admitted to himself that the temporary fae-bridge created by Aldritch the dryad - a shade path, he called it - was a bit unsettling. Ragnar's own bridges, such as the one he'd created for Aldritch to take in return, were formed as short, cavernous tunnels.
Ragnar mentally shrugged; every fae's style was different in respect to exemplifications for their holdings, and fae-bridges fell within that representation. Ragnar wasn't one to judge.
The meet with Aldritch of the Old Wood had gone well; Ragnar found they were like-minded on many secondary subjects. The primary topic of the latest Circle gathering, where breaches of Enigma were ordered to be resolved - the reason from which Aldritch had requested audience - correlated with Saraid Moon Maiden's drive to cleanse the village of Ballaghadaere.
Ragnar wanted to see for himself the activities, both mortal and fae, of that rural little Eire town, to come to his own conclusions. He and Aldritch also had that in common; investigation before impulse.
Since Aldritch admitted he was under bound oath to clarify the Enigma breaches and petition for appeal, Ragnar informed him that Egon Soulsinger had voiced the call, and he would be the one to see. That option would be much easier than if Aldritch tried to reassemble another Circle of Prudence for the matter. He told his guest that Egon was normally agreeable, but would nonetheless write a scroll of introduction on the dryad's behalf.
Ragnar's closest permanent portal to Ballaghadaere was atop the Ben Bulben rock formation. He could not trust that bridge to bring him near his destination in a timely manner, although Aldritch knew the entirety of northwestern Ireland well. Alternately, he had no knowledge of how to reach the holdings of elder Egon. Ragnar had visited there on a few occasions, so each was therefore able to assist the other with a simple pact and exchange of portals.
Stepping out from the shadows of wet, withered-leafed trees and bushes and onto the sward of the small park, Ragnar studied the northern suburb duplexes of Sligo town. He had asked for Aldritch's portal to lead to the nearest large settlement instead of Ballaghadaere itself, wanting to learn more of Ireland's modern culture while he was there. Hopefully, a ride could be found on the back of a wagon or farm truck that was heading south.
Ragnar also wanted updated information of styles and appearance to create a manifestation that would fit in; the 'When in Rome' axiom had always served him well.
As he strolled unseen through Sligo town and into its commercial sector, Ragnar took mental note of all the changes that had taken place since last he visited Ireland.
It was in the summer of 1951 that he toured rural Clare, Galway, and Mayo counties on foot. Then, poverty was an accepted hardship, and many young adults were emigrating to find work. The people were slightly smaller in stature due to poor diets, but were strong in will and faith. Travel was rare for those farmers, who rarely owned cars; most journeys were to the local market or chemist, made either on a bicycle or on foot.
Ragnar compared those memories to the modern urban sprawl as he stood on a cold and rainy street corner and watched all the cars zooming by. He wondered if progression was necessarily a good thing.
After scrutinizing apparel and customs, mostly by visiting pubs and shops, Ragnar felt informed enough to emulate a modern local. His new manifestation was that of a hitchhiker on tour.
He made himself appear as a stout young man in his twenties, not much taller than the average. Ragnar gave himself a clean-shaven, boyish face that would set others at ease, but by vanity kept his violet-blue eyes. With a hood over his tousled brown hair from a large red rain coat, along with tan trousers, hiking boots, and a small backpack, Ragnar let himself appear in the Verden once again. Coming out of a toilet stall at the Sligo train station, he began walking south through and out of town.
Without even putting out a thumb or sign as hitchhikers might, Ragnar was offered a ride by a passing motorist. The man and his wife, both in their forties, were travelling to Athlone for a family event and going in his general direction.
Because of Ragnar's glamour-laced request, the couple was more than happy to alter their route and take the man - going by the name Ryan Reed - to Ballaghadaere. For their initial generosity and kindness, he offered to regale them with amusing prose and quotes from Wilde, Emerson, and even Charlie Chaplan. They were enthusiastic hosts.
While the couple shared jovial anecdotes to entertain their travelling guest along the drive, Ragnar noticed the passing scenery from his backseat window. Most farms, currently with dormant fields, were now equipped with machinery for their work. Power lines were everywhere, and transmitter towers could be seen in the distance. There also seemed to be a resurgence of wooded land, albeit planned and kept in uniform units of acreage.
Modern vehicles, like the one he was in, were, while small, still filled with many electronic amenities; the informational niceties dulled imagination, but the variety of music coming from the radio balanced the irritating disparity.
By mid-afternoon, they had reached the northern side of Ballaghadaere. Ragnar asked the couple to stop anywhere along the main road they were on, and gave them a touch of unspoken luck for the rest of their journey.
After the pleasant couple departed, Ragnar stood on a sidewalk as soft, cold rain came down. He surmised that any fae who kept to pastoral locations and havens might not be as sociable as those who kept closer to humans. Therefore, he could simply wander about the village for a few days, or however long it might take, until he felt another fae presence or was contacted by one. In the meantime, he wanted to learn more of the humans and their remote village before unearthly warriors marched down the streets in a frenzy.
Keeping with that adage to 'do as the romans do', Ragnar did what any good, sensible Irishman would when coming to a new place. The nearest pub was named Gil's.