by N. P. Martin
"And why would you do that? Because you think I’m some kind of Chosen One?"
His deep blue eyes were unreadable as he stared at me, puffing contentedly on his long pipe. He struck me as the type not to be fazed by very much, and I put that down to his age. I had no idea how old he actually was, but I got the distinct impression he had been around for a very long time. Long enough to transcend the petty concerns and ways of thinking that most people had. "I know you are," he said. "But do you know it, that’s what really matters here."
I shook my head. "How am I supposed to know it? Because a few people have said so?"
"I thought you would have felt it by now."
"Not really. I just feel like a pawn in a game that I don’t even know the rules of."
Mirahorn smiled slightly. "Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we?"
I stared into the fire for a moment, then said, "You knew my mother."
"Yes, her whole life. Her passing still fills me with sadness."
"Does it now? Why didn’t you do more to protect her then, if you knew her life was in danger?"
Mirahorn looked toward the dancing flames for a moment. "Regrettably, there was nothing we could do. Teresa was put on the Council to keep an eye on Iolas. Somehow, he and the Order he is a part of found out about your mother’s ties to us. They are always trying to kill us, to wipe us out, for they know we are the only ones who pose any threat to them, though that threat has lessened over the years…until you came along, that is."
"No pressure then."
"You just have to believe, Corvin. That’s all we ask of you."
"You keep saying we," I said. "You mean the Order of the Serpent? Maybe you should explain exactly what your Order is, and what it is you do. And while your at it, maybe you can explain to me as well what it is you want from me. I should also warn you that I’m no mood for anymore cryptic bullshit or half truths. I want to know everything, or else I’m leaving here and you’ll never see me again."
"You would leave here, even after seeing a vision of the future that painted a world in the throes of death and darkness?"
I frowned. "How do you know about that? I haven’t told anyone…"
"You don’t need to," he said. "It’s like a vivid painting on the wall of your mind. I can see it clearly for myself. Drakkar may have been a madman, but he wanted you to know the truth about what is coming…about what is already here." He seemed disturbed by the thought as he looked away and puffed somewhat anxiously on his pipe. "Yours is not the only vision. Others have seen far worse."
It was difficult to imagine anything worse than the vision still stuck in my head, hanging as he said on the wall of my mind like a painting that was very much alive and breathing, and which gave off the unmistakable stench of death. So much death. "I dread to think."
"As well you should, for it is nothing less than total annihilation that we face."
"Which for some reason you and your Order think I can stop," I said. "Unless I’m picking you up wrong, which I don’t think I am. Adrina Ó Duinn was pretty adamant on the fact that I’m apparently the Chosen One."
"And Adrina is right, you are. That doesn’t mean, however, that you will save us all."
"What does it mean then?"
"It simply means you are our best hope."
I shook my head and took a drink from my glass before fishing in my pockets for the pack of cigarettes I hoped was still there. When I took the crumpled pack out, however, I sighed in annoyance when I discovered it was empty. Cursing under my breath, I threw the empty pack in the fire.
"Allow me," Mirahorn said as he waved his hand over the table, conjuring a brand new pack of cigarettes.
"Neat trick," I said as I picked up the packet. "Thank you."
He nodded as he gently puffed on his pipe. "A man should not be without a smoke if he wants one."
As I used a lighter from my pocket to spark up my cigarette, I suddenly felt a modicum of respect for the man, if only because he helped satisfy my craving. "Right, then," I said as I blew smoke toward the fireplace. "Maybe we should rewind a bit here. Tell me about the Order of the Serpent. What’s it stand for?"
Mirahorn crossed his legs as if getting comfortable. "The Order stands for nothing less than Truth and Light. Our members are often known as Servants of Truth, or Servants of Light. We exist to bring balance and enlightenment to the world, a task that we ably accomplished for many an era until opposing forces rose up against us. We are essentially an Order of Druids, though others from different faiths and traditions have joined our ranks over the years."
"And just how big are your ranks?"
"Too few," he said with some regret. "Too few indeed. Our number was once strong, but I’m afraid the lure of darkness and power was too much for many. The forces of darkness are strong in the world now, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Things are on the brink of collapse as humanity seems to have forgotten the meaning of being human in the first place. Most have become chained and blinded by technology and those who control it. Our enemies have misled the population into slavery, using means and technology that most aren’t even aware of. People think war and greed and the lust for selfish power is the natural order of things, that we don’t have a higher purpose as human beings, a spiritual purpose that was intended for us by the Great Mother. So while people spend their lives staring blankly at screens all day—disconnected from their fellow man and Higher Selves—the forces of darkness work tirelessly to ensure that humanity will not only be wiped out, but also that those higher spiritual goals will never be attained, rendering the souls of man nothing but a distant memory, a ghost image in the fabric of the cosmos. You may think I am ranting, but I have been on this earth for a long time now. I have lived in the world before the architects of control took over and twisted everything to suit themselves and their insane agendas. I have experienced the world as it should be, a world free from the grip of sinister dark forces. That world is long gone, but the memory still remains. It is what keeps me going, the desire to see that world again. "
I nodded as I took a drag on my cigarette. "You paint a bleak picture, and I agree that the world is run by sinister forces with agendas that go against the good of all humanity, but trying to resurrect this past utopia you talk about…I’m not sure that can be done. The world has changed too much. Technology exists whether you want it to or not. People have evolved as well, and there’s no changing that."
"I disagree," Mirahorn said. "Once people have been released from the shackles of slavery they will come to see the truth and live and act in a way that is more congruous with their Higher Selves."
I puffed my cheeks out slightly and shifted my gaze to the fire, frankly surprised at Mirahorn’s apparent naivety. He sounded like every self-help book I’d ever read. Did he really think he was going to restore the world into some kind of utopian paradise? I doubted such a thing even existed, despite what he said about the world of the past being better. He was no different to anyone else, in that he clearly romanticized the past, albeit a very distant one. "No offense, Sylven," I said after tossing my cigarette butt into the fire. "But you’re coming across as naive to me."
He stopped puffing on his pipe to stare at me. "Naive? I believe that’s your ignorance showing, boy. No one is saying the world will be all sweetness and light, but it will at least be balanced once more. That has always been the primary purpose of our Order, to bring balance by releasing the proper energy into the world. But the darker forces have made it nearly impossible for us to do that over the years. Our numbers have dwindled as I said, and our great colleges of learning are no more, demolished by the iron fist that now has a grip on everything, including the very souls of the people."
"What is this other Order who opposes you? Who are they?"
"They are known by many names—these days as the Illuminati—but they first emerged long ago in Ancient Egypt as the Disciples of Apep. When they were forced to flee from Egypt, they came here to Ireland, which a
t the time, was practically the seat of Western civilization. Nearly all learning came from here, spreading East across the land. The Disciples slipped into this country and quietly established a base here. They have been working on spreading their vile philosophies across the world ever since, building as they go their vast architecture of control, while simultaneously putting down anyone who opposes them, most especially our own Order."
I shook my head. "Apep? Why am I not surprised?"
"Yes, you have some experience with Apep’s disciples, don’t you?"
"I helped shut down a cult, and I killed the spirit that drove it."
"You did well," Mirahorn said. "But your actions barely put a dent in the larger Order. The great machine of hate still plows on unabated."
The image of the dark figure from my vision came to mind again, its burning red eyes still filling me with fear. "Who is the figure from the vision? Do you know?"
Mirahorn nodded grimly. "From the beginning, the followers of Apep have desired full control of the world and the people in it, but that desire changed shape some time ago. The Disciples aren’t content with the world as it is anymore. Now they want something different, an even ghastlier form of control."
"Like what?"
"They wish to wipe out the entire planet, every living thing," he said.
"But why? Surely they have to live here to?"
"They have a different vision of the future now, one in which they meld their consciousness to machines so that they become the machines, and immortal with it. They may keep a certain amount of the population alive, but in stasis somewhere, just in case they are needed, but for the most part, the human race as we know it will be wiped out of existence, and only the machines will remain."
"Like fucking Skynet," I muttered under my breath.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing." I lifted the pack of cigarettes off the table and lit one up. "So who is this mysterious figure in my vision? Is it a demon?"
Mirahorn nodded. "In a manner of speaking. It is the son of Apep, born of flesh and blood like you or I, but possessing his father’s terrible power. Thirty-two years ago, the Disciples of Apep held a ritual to impregnate a woman from their own ranks. The ritual lasted for two whole weeks, and it involved the systematic rape of the woman, along with much dark magic. The woman is thought to have died giving birth to this monster. The Disciples raised the child and taught the adult to control his powers. Now they have a man—a demigod—who is almost ready to be unleashed unto the world with only one objective: to destroy it."
I shook my head in disbelief. "These people are mad."
"Mad they may be, but they are also highly focused and determined to achieve their insane goals, which is why they have to be stopped."
"And you somehow think I’m the one to stop a demigod?" I said with raised eyebrows.
He nodded. "I know you are." He stood up and placed his pipe on top of the mantel. "Follow me if you will."
"What for?" I asked as I got up out of my seat with great difficulty, my body now firmly aching and sore, the chair all too comfortable and the fire all too cosy. I would’ve been happy staying where I was, which Mirahorn must’ve noticed, for he walked back over to me just as I stood up.
"You’re in pain," he said. "Let me help ease it." He began to move his hands around my body without touching me, as though he were tracing the outline of my aura. I soon noticed the faint white energy that emanated from his hands and which seeped into me. The effect was immediate. Most of the pain I felt disappeared after a few seconds, along with the burning sensation in the center of my chest from the cuts there. "How is that? Better?"
I nodded gratefully. "Yes. Thank you."
His smile brought a warmth to his lined face. "Good. You need to be strong to hear what I have to say next."
By his words and the look in his eyes, I knew he was telling the truth, which made me dread all the more what was coming next. "Okay," I said unsurely.
"Come." Mirahorn went down the steps and into the library below, crossing the floor to the bookshelves. When he came to a certain section, he suddenly began to levitate, floating up in front of the books, rising at least a dozen feet or more to reach the section of books he was looking for. While he did that, I stood by one of the large windows and gazed out, realizing that we were on the edge of a cliff, the choppy sea beyond looking gray and murky as it crashed against the rocks. The surrounding hills in the distance seemed wild and ominous under the gray sky. "Where are we exactly?" I asked him.
"A very remote part of Mayo," he called down as he selected a book from the shelves and floated down with it in his hands. "This place is invisible to all. It’s been my sanctuary for…a very long time now."
"What’s the book?"
The book in his hands was massive, the greenish cover decorated with ancient Celtic designs. "It is a book of Irish Gods," he said smiling, before moving past me to a large reading table that had stacks of books all over it, some of which he moved aside to make space for the book he was carrying. Wondering what he wanted to show me, I watched him place the book on the table and then open it up, taking a moment to find the page he was looking for. "Take a look," he said stepping back slightly, clearly interested in what my reaction might be.
I moved around to his side of the table and gazed down at the open book. On the left page was a highly detailed depiction of a man who had antlers growing out of his head, and legs that were animal-like, with cloven feet. In his right hand, he held a torc, and in his left hand he held a large serpent that was partly coiled around his muscular forearm. The illustration also showed a stag standing next the man on one side, and a wolf on the other. I recognized the figure immediately, as he was one of the central figures of Irish mythology. "That’s Cernunnos, the horned god," I said. "What does he have to do with anything?"
"Quite a lot actually," Mirahorn said. "Cernunnos is a great warrior and protector of the Earth."
"Sounds like just the kind of deity we need right now, wouldn’t you say?" I said half-jokingly.
Mirahorn smiled a little stiffly as he stared at me. "It’s funny you should say that."
"Why? Are you planning on summoning him or something? Can you do that?"
"In a way, he is already here."
I shook my head. "What do you mean?"
Mirahorn put a hand on my shoulder as he gave me a grave look. "I mean, Corvin, that he is here in you."
"I’m not…understanding you."
He looked deep into my eyes, as if to make sure I knew he was being completely serious. "You are his son, Corvin. Cernunnos is your father."
Chapter 2
It’s not every day that an ancient Druid tells you that you’re the son of a god. Despite his seriousness, my first instinct was to laugh at what he said, as if the idea was completely ridiculous. "I have no idea why you would think that," I said. "But you’re wrong."
Mirahorn stared at me calmly as if this was the very reaction he had been expecting. "I know the idea might seem outlandish to you at this moment," he said. "But I assure you, I speak the truth. You are the son of Cernunnos, the Horned God and Lord of the Wild Things."
My face scrunched up as I stared back at him, overwhelmed now by the weight of his declaration, and the certainty in his eyes. As far as he was concerned, he spoke the absolute truth. I hadn’t known the old Druid for very long, but I knew he wasn’t one for lying. Why would he say such an outlandish thing if it were not true? Despite his conviction, I had great difficulty in wrapping my head around what he said, more so now because I was actually beginning to think, What if it’s true? As crazy as it sounds, what if I am a demigod? "It doesn’t make sense. I know who my father was…"
"Max Chance."
"Yes."
Mirahorn nodded. "Max may have been your father, but he wasn’t your biological father."
A deep frown crossed my face as disturbance set in. "None of this makes any sense."
"So you keep saying, but it will when I exp
lain it to you." He began to head toward the raised annex again. "Come, you look like you need a drink."
"Well, at least that’s something we can both agree on."
Mirahorn chuckled as he took his seat by the fire, refilling the glasses with whiskey from the bottle. As soon as I sat down, I lit up a cigarette and grabbed my drink, downing half of it in one. As I sat there waiting on him to speak, I inevitably found myself searching within for signs of a godly presence, for the tiniest inkling that Mirahorn might be right, but all I felt was…nothing.
"Don’t expect to feel any different," he said as he stared at me intently. "Your power remains hidden from you at this stage."
I shook my head. "That’s convenient. Why?"
"For two reasons." He steepled his fingers as his elbows rested on the arms of the chair he was sitting in. "Firstly, we couldn’t have you growing up with the powers of a demigod at your fingertips. Can you imagine what a disaster that might have been? You’d simply be too powerful for your own good."
"Fair enough. And the second reason?"
"It was imperative that your true nature remain hidden from all but a few. If the Disciples of Apep ever got wind of who you really are, they would’ve killed you long ago. You represent the greatest threat to their existence, you see."
I took a last drag of my cigarette and tossed the butt in the fire. "I’m still not buying this. All I have is your word, and no offense, but I don’t know you, so…"
Mirahorn didn’t seem too put out by my skepticism. If anything, he appeared to expect it. "I understand why you would say that," he said. "But I am telling the truth, and I will prove it to you soon."
"Oh yeah. How?"
"I will take you to meet your father."
"Cernunnos you mean?" My stomach churned with anxiety at the thought of meeting another god, my last encounter with a god having nearly killed me. But it wasn’t just that. If Mirahorn was telling the truth, then I’d be meeting my real father, a thought which blew my mind, to say the least.
