Exile to Érenn - 1. Chapter 1

Prologue

From the Book of the Taking of Ireland (Lebor Gabála Érenn), as set down in the twelfth century from older annals and the recitations of the filid

After the sons of Míl had come with their ships and their iron, and the battle was fought upon the plain, the Tuatha Dé Danann were not slain in the body, nor did they perish utterly from the land.

Rather were they driven beneath the green mantle of the earth, into the hollow hills and the secret places thereof, and there they took up their dwelling in the sídhe.

And they became the Aos Sí, the people of the mounds, neither wholly of this world nor wholly departed from it.

They abide yet in those hidden dwellings, in the secret chambers of the land, and they are not dead, but concealed.

And at times, when the veil between the worlds grows thin—whether at twilight or in the stillness before the dawn—the old music is heard once more upon the wind, and the ancient light shines forth through the fissures and the cracks of stone, as it did in the days of their first coming.

Chapter One

Aiden dashed down aisle four, a security guard, a full-grown man, tight on his heels.

What the fuck, thought the boy. It’s only a couple of bottles of beer. Why does shit like this always happen to me?

As he cut to the left at the end of the aisle, one of the bottles he was cradling under his sweatshirt jarred loose, crashing to the floor with the sound of breaking glass. The boy heard a panicked “fuck” followed by a thump and a pronounced grunt. The security guard slipped on the beer and fell heavily to the hard linoleum floor.

He laughed to himself and muttered, “Can’t catch me, you fat fucker!”

The way was clear. Just one checkout counter and he’d be out the door.

He cleared the counter with a shocked, wide-eyed teenage girl pressed against the register as the store manager stepped between him and the path to the door. He paused, hoping to zag around the obstruction. The beer-stained security guard grabbed his collar from behind and slammed him face-first to the floor. “Caught you, you little prick!” the guard shouted as he body-slammed the boy.

He struggled to regain his breath, the wind knocked out of him and the security guard resting his entire weight on his back. He could taste iron from a split lip, and his elbows, which had taken the brunt of the fall, ached. He looked up through the glass automated doors in time to see his “friends” making a hasty retreat down the street and out of sight. Fuck, he thought, I stole the beer for them.

“How old are you, kid?” asked the store manager.

“Fourteen. Now fucking let me go.”

“You did all this for two bottles of crappy beer?”

Though he hated being locked in the tiny office in the back of the store, Aiden hoped his mother wouldn’t answer the phone and that he could leave her a message. He was always causing his mother problems and he didn’t want to face her. He didn’t want to cause her grief, but this shit was always happening to him.

“Hello.” It was his mother’s voice.

Aiden hesitated.

“Hi, Mom.”

“What is it, honey? Are you all right? Why are you calling me from this number?”

“They took my phone.”

“Who took your phone? Are you in trouble?”

After a long pause Aiden said, “I’m at Walgreens. They want you to pick me up.”

“What did you do this time, Aiden?”

Thirty minutes later he heard the click of the door unlocking. The store manager stepped in and directed Aiden’s mother into the room.

She looked at him, gave the manager a sharp look, and turning to Aiden asked, “What happened to your lip?”

The manager stuttered, “W-we caught him stealing a couple of bottles of cheap beer. Unfortunately he fell and split his lip. We don’t plan to press charges, but you’ll need to assure us he’ll stay away from the store.”

Aiden could see the dark bags under his mother’s eyes and she seemed to have more and deeper wrinkles. It had been tough on her since his father died two years ago. He hated causing her distress, but he couldn’t help it. Stuff like this just happened.

During the drive home, Aiden’s mom was silent. He was expecting her to scold him, but she said nothing. He would have felt better if she had yelled at him.

Once home, Aiden followed his mother into the house. He started toward his room when his mother calmly said, “We have a meeting with the guidance counselor from your school tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m. Go to your room. I’ll bring you some dinner when it’s ready.”

Aiden knew that something was wrong.

The next morning they were greeted by two school officials in a small conference room. Aiden had a close relationship with Sharon Richards, having visited her office more frequently than he cared to admit. He also knew the man, Mr. Dion Armstrong, who served as the head of discipline for the school.

Sharon Richards directed them to sit in two of the six chairs surrounding the table and said, “We have one more person joining us.”

Aiden looked up, suddenly aware of the seriousness of the meeting. The conference room door opened and Ms. Sanchez, the school principal, walked in and took a seat directly across from Aiden and his mother.

“We might as well get started,” she said.

“Aiden has been a disruptive influence at the school this year and I’ve spoken to his counselor from his middle school and they indicate it was the same last year. Mr. Armstrong, would you like to review Aiden’s disciplinary record with Ms. Callahan?”

Dion shuffled through a stack of papers in front of him, clearly uncomfortable with his inclusion in the meeting.

“I’ve got a long list,” he said. “He’s officially skipped school eight times this year. He had a couple of fights on the school grounds. No one was injured seriously, but we have no tolerance for in-school violence. On at least one occasion he was caught spraying graffiti on the wall of the gymnasium and we suspect he’s responsible for a few others.”

Sharon added. “Unfortunately, Aiden is hanging around other troubled kids, some older than himself. It’s setting a bad example for the other students.”

“And then there are his grades. They’re terrible. His teachers indicate that he isn’t applying himself.”

Principal Sanches said in a firm and unforgiving tone. “It’s obvious to us, as it should be for you, Ms. Callahan that this situation isn’t working for either of us.”

Aiden’s mother had been quietly listening, feeling more and more depressed. It was true that she hadn’t given Aiden the type of attention he needed. She tried, but didn’t feel she could keep up with him since her husband passed.

“What do we do?” she asked.

“We’ve done everything we can at San Mateo High,” said the principal. “It’s close to the end of the school year. Sharon can provide you with some referrals for next year. He is no longer enrolled in this school. Mr. Armstrong will accompany Aiden to clean out his locker.”

Aiden and his mom rode home in silence. He could tell she was exhausted. Her eyes were lifeless and her body slumped. What have I done to my mom, he thought. These fuckers are always putting me in impossible situations and I always get blamed for what happens. This world sucks.

Aiden went to his room, lay on his bed, and stared at the ceiling. An hour later his mom brought him lasagna. He wasn’t hungry, but ate anyway. The next morning when he went to the kitchen his mother was already gone. He ate some cereal and washed the dishes. He rarely did housework, but he was feeling guilty today.

At 5:30 his mother walked in the door. She motioned him to sit at the kitchen table.

“We need to talk. I’ve made a decision.”

Aiden didn’t like the sound of this. He could feel his stomach tighten.

“I spoke to your Uncle Rowan today.”

“Uncle Rowan—from Ireland?” Aiden said.

“Yes, I’ve arranged to have you stay with him and his husband Declan this summer.”

“In Ireland? What am I going to do in Ireland all summer?”

“Rowan said he could find plenty of things to keep you busy. He lives in a rural area of County Sligo.”

“What the fuck is County Sligo?”

“That’s enough from you, Aiden. I’m tired of your lousy attitude. You fly out on Friday afternoon. Go to your room. You might as well start packing.”

Aiden grabbed two suitcases from the garage and stomped upstairs to his room.

Rural Ireland? he thought. What the fuck does that mean. I’m less than half Irish, he counted on his fingers, and I’m at least fifth generation American. Why does she feel like she needs to send me back to the “old country. This is fucked.

The next few days were a grind. Packing was quick and he was angry. He took hoodies, jeans, sneakers, a couple of chargers, and the old Giants baseball cap from Dad. Mom kept things short with reminders about the passport, the airline’s unaccompanied minor paperwork she’d handled. She hugged him tight in front of the SFO TSA security entrance, her voice steady but eyes tired. “Rowan’s looking forward to this, Aiden. Give it a chance for me.” He muttered yeah, grabbed his boarding pass, and headed through security without looking back.

The flight dragged with over ten hours of shitty airline food, bad movies, and staring at nothing. Turbulence jolted him awake a few times. He kept thinking about Mom’s face, the school expulsion, how he’d fucked everything up again. Guilt chewed at him, but anger won out. They always blame me.

Dublin Airport hit him with gray light and damp air when he stepped off the plane. It was late afternoon, and the crowd was thick in the arrivals hall. The airline escort walked him through customs where he answered some quick questions, had his passport stamped, and finally dropped him off at the exit. He dragged his suitcases into the main arrivals area, scanning signs and faces.

A tall guy in a practical jacket and jeans stood near the barrier, holding a simple handwritten sign: AIDEN CALLAHAN. The man had salt-and-pepper hair and an easy smile when their eyes met. He looked a little like his dad and the American accent confirmed he definitely wasn’t local. It was his Uncle Rowan.

“Hey, kid!” Rowan called, waving with real enthusiasm. He stepped forward, no hesitation, and clapped a hand on Aiden’s shoulder. “You made it. Long flight, huh? You look beat, but you look just like your dad at your age. I’d recognize you anywhere. Come here.”

He pulled Aiden into a quick, firm hug before Aiden could dodge it. Not awkward, just… warm. Rowan stepped back, grinning. “Declan wanted to be here, but he’s stuck at an archaeology conference in Galway. He’s presenting on some old Sligo sites. He’ll catch up tomorrow. For now, it’s you and me. The car’s this way.”

Aiden shrugged, grabbed one suitcase while Rowan took the other. “Yeah. Whatever.”

They walked out to the parking garage. A cold wind and the smell of rain on concrete greeted them. Rowan unlocked a solid, older SUV. It was a practical vehicle, not at all flashy. As they loaded the bags, Rowan kept talking, easy and upbeat.

“Listen, Aiden, I know this sucks. Getting shipped off, the school stuff, all of it. Your mom filled me in. She’s worried sick, but she thinks some time out here might help reset things. And honestly? I’m glad you’re coming. Declan and I have plenty of room, and the place is quiet. There’s fresh air, good food, and maybe some work to keep you busy. There’s no pressure, just a chance to breathe.”

Aiden slid into the passenger seat and buckled up. “I don’t need fixing.”

Rowan started the engine, chuckled softly, not mocking, just understanding. “Nobody said you did. But everybody needs a break sometimes. Even tough kids like you.” He pulled out onto the road. “It’s three hours to Sligo if traffic’s good. We’ll stop for food if you’re hungry. Tell me about the flight, or don’t. It’s up to you.”

After several miles the motorway gave way to greener fields. There were stone walls, rolling hills, and sheep dotting the landscape. The sky was low and heavy with clouds, but the light broke through in patches—thin, almost golden. Aiden stared out, his headphones in but the volume low. County Sligo looked old. Ancient. It was the kind of place where stories about hidden people under hills might actually feel possible.

He didn’t buy that crap. Not yet.

But as they drove west, Rowan humming along to some old rock tune on the radio, Aiden felt the knot in his chest loosen just a fraction. Maybe this wouldn’t be total hell.

Or maybe it would.

Either way, something about the place felt like it was waiting.