Exile to Érenn - 5. Chapter 5

The next morning at breakfast, Aiden poked at his porridge, the words tumbling out awkwardly. “There was this boy last night, at the passage tomb. About my age. I was wondering if you knew anyone living nearby.”

Declan’s spoon paused mid-air. His eyes sharpened with concern. “One of the vandals, maybe? The ones damaging the cairns?”

“No, it couldn’t be. He wasn’t one of the Bresnahans or like them. He was smaller build, like me. He had dark, longish hair.”

Declan leaned forward. “What else? Did anything else stand out?”

Aiden flushed. “He’s good-looking.”

Declan raised an eyebrow but let it pass. “He could be a tourist. Solstice draws them. People wandering off from groups to see the alignments at dawn or dusk. It’s probably nothing, but I’ll check the cairn tomorrow. For now, Aiden, stay clear of the new barrow. I’m heading into Sligo to beg the Garda for patrols. I’m not holding my breath. They’ve got bigger problems.”

Aiden nodded, but his mind was already on the hill. Despite the warning, there was nothing that would prevent him from looking for the boy. The storm had cleared and sunlight poured over the landscape, sharp and clean.

He walked slowly, excitement tightening his chest, caution making him scan the slopes. At the summit he paused, pulse loud in his ears, then approached the tomb entrance and peered in.

Empty.

Disappointment settled in his gut. Declan was probably right. The boy had been a tourist, already gone, swept off to the next spot with his family. Aiden lingered anyway, tracing the carved entrance with his eyes, replaying the moonlight, the green tunic, the impossible grace.

A rough shove slammed him forward. He stumbled, catching himself on the stone.

“Lost again, Yank?” Skinhead Bresnahan grinned down at him. His brother flanked him, their shadows spreading. “Thought we told you to stay off our hills.”

Aiden straightened, wiping dirt from his palms. “It’s public land. Not yours.”

The tallest one laughed, low and ugly. “Public? This place has old blood in it. Our blood. You outsiders come sniffing around, thinking you own the stories. You don’t.”

Before Aiden could answer, a fist cracked into his nose. Pain exploded; blood poured hot and coppery. The world tilted. He fought the black edges creeping in, staggering back against the mound.

Then a figure stepped out from behind the cairn. Graceful, steady, positioning himself between Aiden and the brothers.

Aiden’s heart lurched. It was him. The boy from the night before, somehow brighter in daylight, more unreal. He wore no gold-trimmed tunic now. Just a plain green sweatshirt, auburn hair catching the sun. In his hand, he carried a simple wooden staff.

The Bresnahan’s paused, something flickering across their faces. Recognition? Wariness?

“Well, look who crawled out,” the leader sneered. “Another stray. You smell wrong, boy. Like old dirt and forgotten things.”

They lunged.

The boy moved like water. The staff flicked once, twice, catching ankles, hooking knees. He didn’t strike to injure; he danced. A sidestep, a twist, a gentle push that sent one brother sprawling into the heather. Another swing, effortless, and the second stumbled off balance, cursing as he hit the ground. The leader charged; the staff tapped his shin just enough to unbalance him. He went down hard, swearing in guttural Irish.

They scrambled up, faces red, spitting threats. “This isn’t over, freak. Your kind always loses in the end.”

They retreated down the hill, still hurling insults over their shoulders.

Silence fell. Aiden wiped blood from his nose, staring. The boy lowered the staff, breathing even, as though he’d done nothing more than stroll through the tall grass.

Their eyes met. Aiden’s pulse hadn’t slowed.

The boy spoke first, soft and strange. “An bhfuil tú gortaithe go mór?”

Aiden blinked. “What? I don’t understand.”

The boy tilted his head, studying Aiden’s mouth, his expression intent, as though hungry for the sounds. Then, haltingly, in English he said. “You’re bleeding. Come. Let me help.”

Aiden stepped back instinctively. “Fuck off. I’m fine.” His voice cracked. Fear and something warmer twisted together, making his skin prickle.

The boy held his gaze, steady, unblinking. The anxiety in Aiden’s chest eased, like a knot loosening. The boy stepped closer, reached up, and pressed two fingers lightly to the bridge of Aiden’s nose.

A soothing warmth pulsed through the cartilage. The bleeding stopped almost instantly.

Aiden exhaled. “Okay. Yeah. It doesn’t hurt anymore. Are you some kind of paramedic or something?”

The boy’s lips curved, a small, private smile. “I’m something.”

“What’s your name?”

“Aiden. I’m visiting from California.”

“California?” The word sounded foreign on the boy’s tongue, as though it was a place that didn’t exist until that moment.

“What’s your name?”

“Cianán.” The name settled into the air, fitting the hills, the stones, the quiet wind. It couldn’t have been anything else.

“You live nearby?”

“Not far.” A sad flicker crossed Cianán’s face and was gone in an instant.

Aiden hesitated. “Are you okay?”

“It’s nothing. I’m usually alone.”

“Where’s your home,” asked Aiden.

Cianán glanced away, evasive. “I live on my own. My family is gone.”

He thought Cainàn’s family must be away on a vacation or work trip. “All by yourself? That sucks.” Then nervously, “Come back with me. Rowan cooks enough for an army. Declan’s nice too. They won’t mind.”

Cianán’s eyes brightened, a spark of something desperate and hopeful. “You’re sure they won’t mind?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

The boys walked the path back to the farmhouse side by side, Cianàn alert and observant, Aiden anwkward and slightly nervous.

The kitchen smelled of fresh soda bread and turf smoke. Rowan stood at the Aga, stirring a pot, when Aiden pushed the door open.

“Rowan, I brought someone home with me. It’s the guy I was asking about this morning. His name is Cianán. We met by the cairn.”

Rowan turned, wiping his hands, face breaking into a wide, genuine smile. “Cianán! Glad to meet you.” He extended a hand. “Been hoping Aiden would find someone his own age. These hills can feel lonely for a teen from California.”

Cianán shook it. Polite, steady. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“None of that. Rowan’s fine. Sit. Bread’s just out. Hungry?”

“Yes, please. It smells wonderful.”

Then noticing Aiden’s blood soaked shirt said. “What happened to you! Do you need to go to the infirmary.”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll be right back I’ll wash up and change my shirt.

When he returned he noticed Cianán’s gaze lingering on the vial artifact sitting on the mantel. He said nothing.

Declan appeared quietly in the doorway, coat still on, keys in his hand. He saw Cianàn and froze.

His face drained of color. Not the usual Irish pallor, but gray, bloodless. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His breathing came quick and shallow. His pupils were wide, his eyes dark pools. One hand clenched the keys, while the other braced the frame.

Aiden noticed him first. “Declan?”

Rowan turned. “Love? Are you all right?”

Declan blinked slowly, swallowed. He straightened, forced a smile, though his fingers trembled as he set the keys down.

“I’m fine. It was a tough day.”

He stepped forward, offering his hand. “Declan MacDonagh.

Cianán shook it. Calm. “Cianán.”

Declan held on a second longer, studying the boy’s face. Something ancient flickered in his eyes. Not fear, but recognition, like glimpsing a half-forgotten dream.

“Welcome,” he said softly, almost reverent. “You’re safe here.”

Rowan frowned between them. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Declan nodded, releasing the hand. “Yes. I’m glad Aiden’s made a friend.”

His gaze lingered on Cianán, measuring something unspoken.

“Cianán,” Declan said after a moment. “That’s an interesting name. Is it from the old Irish Cian, maybe?”

“Sort of,” Cianán replied.

A brief silence. Then Cianán tilted his head, curious. “Why do two men that are not warriors live together? Where are the women?”

Declan smiled gently. “We have women friends, but Rowan and I are together.”

Cianán’s brows lifted in surprise. “Together? You are mated?”

Rowan chuckled. “That’s not quite how I’d phrase it, but yes. We’re married.”

Cianán considered this, nodding slowly, as though filing away a new piece of the world.

Rowan clapped his hands together. “Right, enough standing about. Sit, all three of you. The food’s ready. We have stew, bread, and there’s apple tart for after if you’ve room.”

He ladled thick lamb stew into bowls, the steam carrying rosemary and barley. Cianán hesitated at the table, eyeing the chair as if it might shift under him, then sat carefully. Aiden slid in beside him. They were close enough that their elbows lightly brushed against each other. Aiden’s skin tingled. He told himself it was just the warmth from the Aga.

Cianán lifted the spoon, turned it over in his fingers like it was an unfamiliar tool, then mimicked Aiden’s grip. The first bite made his eyes widen.

“This is warm. And it’s full of flavor,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Rowan beamed. “The secret’s in the slow cooking. You haven’t had stew before?”

“Not like this.” Cianán took another spoonful, slower, and savored it.

Declan sat opposite, watching more than eating. His bowl steamed untouched. After a moment he spoke, his voice even but threaded with curiosity.

“So, Cianán, where exactly do you live? You said ‘not far,’ but these hills are sparse. There are few houses close to the cairns.”

Cianán paused mid-chew. “I live among the stones. In the quiet places.”

Declan’s fork stilled. “The quiet places,” he repeated. “You mean the tombs? Or the hills themselves?”

Cianán met his gaze steadily. “Both, perhaps.”

Aiden glanced between them, sensing the undercurrent. Declan wasn’t angry. He was just intent, like a man piecing together a puzzle with half the pieces missing.

Rowan cleared his throat. “Declan’s been fretting over the cairns for weeks. There have been vandals, bad weather, the lot. He thinks every shadow’s trouble. Don’t mind him. He’s protective.”

Declan offered a thin smile. “Just careful. My family’s been on these lands a long time. Some things linger.”

Cianán nodded, as if he understood more than the words. “I know.”

Aiden watched Cianán’s profile, the way his lashes caught the lamplight, the faint curve of his mouth when he tasted the bread. He’s just interesting, Aiden thought. Different. Anyone would notice. It’s not… He cut the thought off, cheeks warming. He focused on his stew.

The meal continued with lighter talk. Rowan asked Cianán about his favorite foods. He liked “things from the earth. Berries, roots.” When Cianán admitted he’d never seen a computer or mobile phone, Rowan laughed and promised a demonstration later. Cianán stared at the electric light overhead, then at the smooth walls, touching the edge of the table like he was testing its reality.

Halfway through the meal, Cianán shifted uncomfortably and set his spoon down.

“I need to relieve myself.”

Aiden blinked. “Oh. Yeah, sure. The bathroom’s upstairs.”

Cianán stood, hesitant. Aiden rose too. “I’ll show you.”

In the narrow hallway, Aiden flicked on the light. Cianán froze, staring at the bulb as if it had spoken.

“It’s bright. Without fire.”

“Electricity,” Aiden said, trying to sound casual. His face felt hot already.

Inside the small bathroom, Cianán looked from the toilet to the sink, to the shower and finally Aiden, his brow furrowed.

“What do I do?” he asked plainly.

Aiden’s mouth went dry. “Uh. You just sit, or stand if you’re—never mind.” Aiden lifted the lid. “If you’re peeing you just aim at the middle of the bowl, go, and then flush when you’re done.” He flushed the toilet as a demonstration.

Cianán studied the porcelain, then the flush valve, fascinated. “Water comes and goes on command?”

“Yeah. It’s convenient.” Aiden rubbed the back of his neck. As Cianán reached into his pants to free himself Aiden anxiously exclaimed. “I’ll wait outside,” and rushed into the hallway and closed the door.

When Cianán emerged a minute later, he looked pleased, almost proud. “It worked. The water carried it away.”

Aiden laughed despite himself, short and nervous. “Yeah. Good job.”

Back in the kitchen, the dessert was served. Cianán ate the apple tart slowly, eyes half-closed in pleasure. Declan asked one more quiet question. “Where are your parents, Cianán?” He got only a soft “They are gone. All of them are gone” Aiden quickly steered the conversation to stories of California beaches and skateboarding, making Cianán lean forward, in rapt attention.

As the evening deepened, Cianán glanced toward the window. The sky had darkened.

“I should go,” he said reluctantly.

Aiden’s stomach dropped. “Already?”

“It’s far to walk in the dark.”

Declan watched him closely. “You’re welcome back anytime. The door’s always open.”

Rowan nodded. “Tomorrow, maybe? Aiden could use the company.”

Cianán’s gaze found Aiden’s. Something unspoken passed between them. Gratitude, a promise, or a thread of need.

“Tomorrow,” Cianán said. “At the cairn? When the sun is high?”

Aiden nodded quickly. “Yeah. I’ll be there working with Declan.”

Cianán smiled, small, real, the first unguarded one all evening. Then he slipped out the door into the night, staff in hand, vanishing quickly into the shadows of the hill.

Aiden stood at the window, watching the spot where he’d disappeared, heart beating too fast. He told himself it was just excitement about a new friend. Nothing more.

But the lie felt thinner than ever.

The next morning Declan and Aiden arrived at the cairn at the regular time.

“I’ll take a look to make sure nothing is sabotaged or damaged,” Declan said.

After a few minutes, he returned and said, “It’s all clear. Let’s get to work. Today, I’d like to start excavating the chamber on the right.”

Aiden looked at him with a questioning expression. “How many chambers are there?”

“There are usually three chambers in a Carrowkeel cairn, each with a basin. You finished one of them last week when you found the vial. They’re usually in the form of a cruciform, so there should be two more, one on the left and one on the right.”

“Oh, okay, I didn’t realize the tombs were so large.”

Changing subjects. “Cianán is an unusual boy,” Declan said. “He’s quite handsome.”

Aiden blushed. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“The night before last when you first saw him, what was he doing?”

“When the solstice sun filled the chamber with light, he was just standing there looking out at me. It was as if he was expecting me to be there.”

“Is there anything else I should know?” asked Declan.

“He was dressed kind of strangely. Like something out of an old history book. He wore a tunic thing, a weird belt, and all earthy colors. But… it looked good on him. Really good. Like he belonged there or something.”

Declan fixed Aiden with a steady stare. “He seems like a nice lad, but be cautious, Aiden. We don’t know much about him.”