“Now you’re catching on,” she cheered. “The humans and the clans who agreed to this self-imposed hiatus will especially suffer.”
“But why hold him here like that?” Duncan gestured at the sad mass that lay in a convulsing heap. Wardicon’s wing was crumpled awkwardly beneath his frame.
“To make it simple enough for your little mind to comprehend, Duncan, I just need to possess the keeper of a clan’s magic and cast a few spells from magic long forgotten to be in control of the clan.”
“So, as long as you have him, you control the Sidhes?” Duncan shook his head in disbelief. “But why would you need to?”
Morna raised her brow. “You’d be surprised at how powerful the Sidhes are, Leprechaun. As a matter of fact, a little demonstration may be in order.”
“What are you talking about?”
“When you arrived I noticed that my griffin was missing a feather. He wants it back.”
Duncan was still confused. “I don’t have its feather.”
“I know that, simpleton. It seems to be traveling towards us as we speak, but the search party from your village is taking their sweet time about it. I think I’ll send the Sidhes to get it back for my pet.” She stared at Duncan waiting for his response.
“None from my village had better be harmed, Morna!” Duncan was reaching through the bars grasping at his much larger foe. “I’m warning you!”
Morna walked to the door deliriously happy with herself. “I heard that your daughter is leading the expedition, Duncan.”
“Dorian,” whispered Duncan.
“Dorian, you say? Don’t worry, Papa Elf, I’ll make sure the head stone is engraved appropriately.” She exited the room in a fit of laughter leaving the Leprechaun King in helplessness and despair.
…
The day was drawing closer to an end though the sun had not totally retreated. Light was low but Brendan was able to appreciate the scenery once again. How beautiful was this country? It was green and open, and it was starting to make Brendan sleepy, and that was not a good thing for a driver. It didn’t help much that everyone else in the car was quiet or dozing. The sounds of sleep were a nice incentive to drift off. He found himself shaking his head and wiping his eyes quite a bit as his little beat-up car bounced down the road.
“Are you awake?” Dorian asked. She happened to glance over and recognize the signs of fatigue.
Brendan smiled sleepily at the lovely creature in the passenger seat. The light was such that it really showcased her ridiculous beauty.
He waved her off. “I’m a little tired, but I’ll be fine.”
“I can drive if you want me too,” she offered.
His tired mind thought back to the sheer craziness of her one time behind the wheel. He shot back to lucidness and said, “No, no. I’m up and very alert… now.” He cleared his throat. “Is the feather still pointing us in the right direction?”
Dorian smiled knowingly and looked down at the griffin’s feather. “It is.”
Brendan, thinking he dodged an argument, looked ahead and spotted a dark blob in the air on the horizon. “What is that?”
Dorian caught herself staring at the handsome American. “What?” She knew Brendan did have something going for him, but she couldn’t decide what it was.
Brendan pointed in the direction of the dark blob, which happened to be getting larger. “Up there.”
Dorian squinted and then the realization floated into her mind. “No, it couldn’t be.”
“What? What is it?”
“They don’t come down this far.” Dorian’s mind was confused. “They stay to themselves.”
“Who does?” implored Brendan. He was getting annoyed at the lack in exchange of information.
“It’s the Sidhes.”
The large flock of Sidhes approached at an accelerated rate. A roiling mass of bat-like creatures with bared fangs and antsy claws poised to tear and slash. The one-time humanoid beings that were more along the lines of fairies that little girls had tacked up on posters in their rooms now held no such comparison. Gaunt and gray, the Sidhe nation had mutated into the things of nightmares. The only difference was that they were in the real world flying over an Irish road, intent on murder.
“What’s a Sidhe?” asked Brendan.
“Uh, I believe you call them fairies.”
“Oh, okay.” Brendan considered it a moment. “Fairies are harmless, right?”
Suddenly, one of the deranged beings slammed into the windshield with a grimace-causing Smack!
“Whoa!” yelped Brendan, studying the hideous thing that had its sharp and not very sanitary looking claws digging into the glass. It took to opening its mouth and slobbering all over Brendan’s line of sight. “Fairies? Fairies my foot!”
Three more Sidhes followed suit and slammed into the little car’s windshield. The impacts left cracks, but the glass held. The ugly little things clawed and pulled and bit. A chubby one took a moment to gnaw on a big moth that hit the windshield ten or so miles earlier.
“They’re Sidhes, but they’ve been changed somehow,” Dorian replied.
Brendan had mashed on the gas trying his best to lose the weird things. More of the bat-wannabes slammed into the car. Some hit the hood and others the doors and roof.
Lizzie sat bolt upright, clearly still half asleep. “What’s going on?” she asked sleepily.
Brendan flicked on his windshield wipers and surprised a few of the Sidhes. The rubber and metal smacked them in the face and sent them flying up and over the car. One clung to the wiper and bit large chunks out of it.
“Nothing,” lied Brendan. “Go back to sleep, Liz.”
“Okay,” nodded Lizzie. She yawned and leaned her head against the side window. She settled in and was drifting back to sleep when an ugly mutant fairy smashed into the glass right next to her face. Lizzie opened her eyes and slowly recognized that she was awake. After getting a full look at the little monster, she shrieked loud and long. The Sidhe outside her window covered its ears and lost its grip. The wind and another Sidhe banged into it and sent it to the roadside.
Biddy and Rory, now awake with instant headaches from the head-splitting scream, took in the battle scene.
“Are those Sidhes?” asked Biddy.
“I think so,” answered Rory.
“What the do they want?” Brendan jerked the wheel and worked to knock off more of the things, but there were so many it became difficult to see through the thick mass of the ugly gray mutants.
Brendan’s question lead Dorian to a realization. She looked down at the feather on the bench seat. “They’re after the feather! They’re working for Morna!”
Rory and Biddy exchanged looks of shock and sadness. What did that mean? Had the world they had always known vanished somewhere along the way? How could they have missed the signs?
“What do we do?” Lizzie yelled.
Brendan narrowed his eyes. “We get rid of them.”
“How?” chortled Rory at the absurdness of the entire situation. “You don’t know the Sidhes like we do. You don’t just get rid of them.”
Brendan moved his head, jockeying for a clear patch of vision and when he found it he smiled. He locked eyes on a group of large trees with low-hanging, heavy branches and he steered right at them. He didn’t slow or hesitate. He didn’t ask for permission or wait for the suggestion. He slammed the gas pedal down and rocketed the car off the road and into the growth.
The others screamed, but no one protested. They watched as the branches battered the gray Sidhes. The little things were knocked silly and sent flying. The branches also crashed into the windshield and spider webbed the entire thing. When they emerged out of the growth of trees, the car was mutant-fairy free.
“Boo ya!” cheered Lizzie.
More congratulations resounded from the others, but Dorian was watching the skies.
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” she warned.
“Yes, we are.” Biddy pointed back
to the trees. “Didn’t you see us leave them?”
A collective scream materialized from the darkening sky. Two more caterwauls sounded and then the roof was assaulted. The most horrific scraping sounds and clawing came from above their heads. The even more frightening part happened next. The Sidhes’ claws found thin spots in the rusting roof and they began to peel it away like a banana skin.
The car was alive with batting hands and screams. One Sidhe slipped in during the chaos and nicked the feather. It instantly took to the air and avoided Dorian’s grasp.
“They’ve got the feather!” she shouted.
Brendan scanned the sky and spotted the little thief trying to hide amongst the others who had apparently regrouped for another offensive. “I see it.”
“I can’t let them get away with it,” whispered Dorian.
She unzipped her bag and thrust her hand inside. She plucked out a vile with a golden liquid sloshing around and glowing. She poured the vile into her hands and the golden liquid absorbed into her palms. Her hands began to glow and radiated an energy that Brendan and Lizzie had never known before. Dorian took a deep breath and looked over at Brendan. Her eyes were no longer green and surrounded by white sclera. Instead her eyes blazed with golden magic.
The howl of war sounded above and Dorian exhaled. She thrust her hands through the opening in the roof as the glow intensified. She concentrated and emitted a blast of golden energy from the palms of her hand into the flock of Sidhes.
Brendan’s jaw was wide open watching the golden streak of magic cut through the air and obliterate five Sidhes as if they were just guinea pigs in a nuclear bug zapper.
“Whoa! You got ’em!” shouted Lizzie.
“I was aiming at the thief,” said Dorian.
Several other Sidhes began their attack again and dove right at their car.
“Forget the feather. Worry about the others!” snapped Brendan.
Dorian sited the dive-bombers and disintegrated them easily, but in the melee, the feather thief had flown away. The other mutant fairies flanked the thief and the battle was over.
“It’s gone,” lamented Dorian, her golden glow fading as quickly as it had come. Brendan brought the car to a halt, and Dorian leaned back in her seat. “How are we going to find him now?”
Biddy and Rory leapt to her shoulders and tried to comfort her.
Rory pursed his lips. “Don’t lose heart, Dorian. The Sidhes gave us a direction to start with at least.”
“We’ll find him,” promised Biddy.
Brendan pushed the gas pedal and somehow found a road going in the same direction as the Sidhes were flying. The car grew silent as the sun abandoned them.
…
Morna spied the flock of Sidhes as they drew closer to her castle. She noted that their numbers were thin and their faces, though distorted to her liking, appeared frightened and shell-shocked.
The feather thief landed on the balcony first, followed closely behind by the fifty or so survivors. It stumbled forward, cradling the feather in its boney hands, and on trembling legs handed the prize over to the witch.
Morna, pleased with the mayhem her little slaves no doubt inflicted, took the feather and held it aloft. She had always enjoyed the dark, rich shadows the moon cast within the tower. The griffin stepped out of the shadows with its eyes as burning slits. Many of the Sidhes took to the air to avoid being in the same area as the fearsome predator. Morna turned the feather over in her fingers. When she did release it, the feather angled directly for its place on the griffin’s right wing just behind the shoulder.
Morna turned her attention back to the group of Sidhe’s on her ledge. “And what of the search party?”
She knew by the behavior that the little fools had failed in killing them. She knew that they had betrayed her in their failure. She lashed out and swatted the unfortunate few that were within arm’s reach, scattering the remaining Sidhe’s to the air.
Morna howled in anger and spun on her heels to rest against the stone rails of the balcony. “It appears that Duncan’s daughter is more formidable than I thought. I’ll need to send in Dullahan.”
At the mention of his name, lightning struck the air and lit up the sky around the castle, thunder rolled, crying out in fear, and the mighty griffin slinked back into the shadows. Morna looked into the distance and could hear the approaching hooves of her champion’s horse. Dullahan was on his way.
Chapter 8
Visions
It was in the wide-open plains of Ireland that Brendan found himself enjoying a nice breeze and the smell of a stew boiling over the fire. He realized that his eyes were closed and he slowly opened them, but the sun was bright and unbearable and forced them to shut tight. He could feel them beginning to water in response. He used his sleeve to push the tears away. He turned the opposite direction and blinked his lids open.
Once the stinging subsided, he looked around. He noted that he had never seen this place before, but somehow it was familiar. It was natural for him to be here. He didn’t know why, but he could sense it.
There were aspens, sessile oaks, silver birch, and black alders among other groves of trees; nothing uncommon for the area. A small stream trickled by some thirty feet to the south and a family of fallow deer was bathing. Being from New York City, the closest he had been to nature was Central Park. The deer were amazing and they absolutely ignored him. He slowly walked towards them and they never budged. He managed to step within mere feet of them before they finally looked up in alarm.
“Whoa, I won’t hurt you,” he soothed. The deer must not have believed him because they sprinted away leaving no trace.
Brendan wiped his eyes again and then knelt down to the stream. He cupped his hands and tried to draw up water to splash his face. He tried, but found that he couldn’t touch the water. His hands passed right through the stream without actually making any contact! They weren’t even damp.
“Whoa!” he said aloud.
Small voices called out from the direction he had just come and he looked up expecting to see Biddy and Rory. Two little people waved and beckoned him to their campsite. He remembered the stew and began to follow the call. He kept thinking about the strangeness of the situation. When did Biddy and Rory start making stew? Where were Dorian and Lizzie? He didn’t remember parking the car here. Hey, where was the car?
The closer he got to the small campsite the clearer it became that he didn’t know these Leprechauns. They were both men with scraggly beards and shabby clothing. Now, Leprechauns normally dressed weird, but these two didn’t wear anything close to what today’s styles were. Brendan just assumed that they were backwoods Leprechauns, so he let the observation go unsaid.
“Hello,” he greeted the men. They nodded. “Have you seen an ugly, rusted out, piece-of-junk car anywhere around here?”
Neither of the men replied. One stirred the pot while the other lit his long wooden pipe. As he stood there, waiting on the rude little men to respond, a third little man emerged from between his feet and joined the others at the fireside.
“Hello,” Brendan repeated. “I’m talking to you.”
They ignored him again. Instead, they addressed the newcomer.
“Evening, Cletus.”
“How to do, Clive?” replied Cletus. “And you, Sean?” The little guy pulled up a stone and made himself comfortable.
Sean was stirring the stew and shrugged in response before he pulled the spoon out to test it. He smacked his lips and pulled out a couple of bowls. “Want some stew, Cletus?”
“I don’t mind if I do.”
The bowls were filled and the three sat in silence slurping soup and annoying Brendan. It was obvious to him now that the little guys couldn’t see him or just didn’t want to see him.
“What word hear ye?” asked Sean.
Cletus wiped his mouth and frowned. “It ain’t looking good, boys. I’ve got to be blunt,” he paused, seeming to choose his words carefully before continuing. “I think th
at we may be headed for war.”
“No!” gasped Clive.
“But I thought the Council was formed to prevent such a thing,” added Sean.
“It was, but the wizards and witches will hear none of it,” Cletus said. “They don’t like the terms from what I hear.”
“What terms would that be?” Sean shoved another heaping spoonful of mushroom stew into his gaping maw.
“The one about leaving the humans be. Conchar is a bad wizard with vengeance in his heart, I say.”
Brendan listened to the conversation with peaked attention, but for some reason the words became hard to hear. He stuck his fingers in his ears to clear out the wax, but soon enough his lack of hearing turned into a lack of vision as well. The forest faded and everything went black. It was some time before his senses returned to him.
Shaking his head clear, Brendan found that he was on the ground with his back to a thick, bumpy trunk. His senses were sharp in contrast to the strange anesthetized mode he was trapped in moments before. He looked around and noticed that the winter snow was beginning to fall and the ground was just beginning to look frosted. Large flakes were gently floating down and Brendan looked up at them. The branches were bare and he had a pretty nice view of the cloudy sky. At that point, he wasn’t sure where he was in the world, at least not judging by the surroundings, but his gut told him that he was still in Ireland. Maybe it was his gut, or just some innate sense of knowing, or maybe it was the two fairies that were perched on a low hanging bough.
“These winter days are so lovely,” said the petite female Sidhe.
“Aye,” agreed the older male with a short cropped beard. “Tis the last we’ll see that will begin with peace, for some time, that is.”
“Are things that bad?”
“They are, Orilla.”
“Why can’t the spellbinders just leave well enough alone, Bartamus?” she pleaded.
Bartamus shook his head sadly. “I think the spellbinders, like Conchar, hate the idea of not being the dominant ones. The humans are a different breed to be sure, but to try and wipe them out…” the Sidhe shuttered at the thought. “It’s not right.”
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