The Obsidian Dagger

by Brad A. LaMar

  “Its beautiful. What is it?”

  “You can call it a Celtic Knot.”

  Oscar turned the charm over in his fingers and examined it. It looked like three outlines of thin leaves laid out so that the ends toward the middle overlapped or crossed. It was beautiful craftsmanship and took the work of a real artist.

  “Folklore says that it represents the crossing of our inner spirituality and our physical beings.”

  Oscar admired it for a moment longer and then attempted to hand it back to Charlie.

  Charlie held his hand up. “You keep it, friend. Think of it as a welcome to Ireland gift.” Charlie got to his feet just as the waitress arrived. He leaned in and whispered something in her ear before he laid down a group of folded Euros on the waitress’s tray.

  His face was glowing in a bright blue light from his laptop screen and it vastly contrasted the soft glow coming out of the lanterns randomly placed around the pub. A large mug, empty except for the foam that rung the bottom of the glass, sat idly next to two others on Oscar’s table.

  “Have a great night, Oscar. Good luck on your research.” Charlie left with a tip of his cap.

  Two hours later, the waitress approached his table and laid another drink down at his table.

  “Um, how many did he pay for?“

  “All he said was ‘as many as it takes,’” she replied with a grin.

  He returned her smile with one of his own.

  “I hope you are enjoying your night,” she said.

  “I am,” he hiccupped. “I am on a mission, you see.”

  “Is that so?” The waitress raised a curious brow.

  “It is so.” Oscar lifted his mug and took a small sip. “I am trying to find my ancestry here in your town.”

  “Well, what have you found out so far?”

  He tilted the laptop screen so she could see. “Not much. But I am determined and I shall not fail.”

  “A lot of Yanks come here in search of their family tree. Most are just searching for something. What are you hoping to find?”

  Oscar tilted his head. “I guess I have just always felt a pull to come to Ireland. It’s like a feeling that you can never get rid of until you act on it.”

  “Well, I hope you find everything you’re searching for.” She left him to his work and his draft.

  He thought a little longer on his motives and found that he still really couldn’t explain it, but it felt stronger than ever at that moment. He glanced down at the Knot charm and thought he saw something move within its metal, but glancing over at the empty mugs satisfied his question.

  …

  Duncan’s mind was foggy when he tried to think, but in the moments where he quieted his thoughts, the images he had were clear and frightening. Morna was invading his brain, and he was losing control. He wondered how much longer he would be able to fend her off and preserve his conscious mind. Looking at Wardicon, he could see what the results would be if he couldn’t defend his consciousness. It would be pain and misery and the worst part was that it would be his people that would suffer the most. He was responsible for them and for keeping their magic. It was he that would be responsible for handing over that power and their lives to Morna.

  Even with all of those thoughts playing at his mind and all of the images that Morna had implanted in her attempt to crush his will and seize total control, one thought helped to keep his mind his own.

  “Dorian,” he mumbled as thunder clashed somewhere outside the castle and far beyond his prison.

  …

  Dorian had retold the story to Gorgoch while Lizzie, Rory, Biddy, and Brendan filled in the gaps when they thought that she was leaving something out. After thirty minutes or so Gorgoch seemed to grasp the concept.

  “So, that’s all you know?” began Gorgoch. “You don’t know if it is truly Morna’s bidding that the Sidhes and Dullahan were doing?”

  “All I have to go on is my gut, Artie, and besides, I had once seen Morna with that same griffin.” She looked directly into Gorgoch’s fluid features. “I would bet a pot of gold that she’s behind it all.”

  “Well, I can’t say for certain if she is or if she’s not, but I am willing to take you as far as the shore for you to find out.” Gorgoch scratched his head. “I wouldn’t put it past the old witch, that I know for certain.”

  “Why only the shore?” asked Brendan. “A big guy like you could really come in handy when things get rough again.”

  Gorgoch let his head drop slightly. “She’s the reason I’m in this state of being. She killed me in life and took control of my spirit to do her evil. I escaped after doing horrible things, so I don’t plan on giving her another chance.”

  Dorian looked around at the others. “Then its settled. Gorgoch will take us as far as the coast and then we can take a ship to Scotland.”

  “Well, I think its cool and all that Artie here is going to escort us to the shore, but it’s going to be a long walk,” observed Brendan.

  “Who said anything about walking?” asked Dorian giving a sly nod toward Gorgoch. The old spirit’s smile was very clear beneath the shimmering appearance of his face.

  …

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this!” Brendan yelled as the wind rushed past his ears.

  He glanced around and saw the faces of his traveling companions and only Lizzie’s expression reflected his own. They were all clinging to an expanded Gorgoch who apparently was able to fly. Brendan saw no logic in what was currently happening, but what he learned in recent history helped him to not question it too much. Why wouldn’t a ghost be able to expand his body and soar through the air with five of the living on his back? Seriously, why not?

  Lizzie was apparently not ready to accept it as she looked through Gorgoch’s transparent body at the landscape passing quickly beneath them and had to ask. “Now, why aren’t we plunging to our deaths again?”

  Rory, who was closest to Lizzie and Brendan, answered. “Gorgoch is half-spirit and half-man, which means he exists in both our world and in the next.”

  “I’ll say it,” said Lizzie. “This is just crazy. Just flat-out crazy.”

  “Okay, okay. We get it, Liz. It’s crazy,” replied Brendan, still not really believing his eyes either. “Well, I’m glad it’s the middle of the night at least.”

  “Why?” asked Dorian, a puzzled look on her face.

  “Could you imagine looking up and seeing all of us soaring over your head on a nearly transparent guy?”

  “Of course I could,” Dorian replied. “I’m taking advantage of his fancy flying powers right now, aren’t I?”

  Brendan rolled his eyes. “Believe me, normal people would be freaking out right now.”

  Dorian smiled to herself, admiring Brendan as the wind passed through his hair.

  Riding “Gorgoch Air” was the strangest experience of Brendan’s life. Considering the last couple of days, that was saying something. He had to hand it to the dead guy, though, because the flight was comfortable and after getting over the initial shock of what they were doing, it was really exciting. Ireland was absolutely beautiful, even with little light to see. The skies were clear and breezy and the first stars were beginning to dot the night sky. He imagined that this was the feeling that hang gliders got as they took to the air.

  The massive ghost plane made the travel time considerably shorter than if they were driving, and the group reached the coast only after a short while. Brendan didn’t time it or think too much about it since he had other things on his mind. Things like Dorian’s smile and Dorian’s eyes and Dorian’s hair and so on and so on… Also he was trying to not think about the rental car that was just annihilated by the headless freak show.

  The only time the car even came up in conversation was when Lizzie asked, “What do you think Dad’s going to say about the car?”

  All Brendan could do was shrug. “It’s going to be hard to explain this one.”

  Lizzie smiled, “I bet we don’t get the deposit ba
ck either.”

  They laughed together for the first time in awhile. Neither one wanted to think about what surprises lay in wait.

  Gorgoch landed with the grace of a swan and gently placed his passengers on the ground. He shrank himself back to the height of an average-sized man.

  “Here we are,” he announced.

  Dorian nodded, but wasted no time. “I’ll go and secure us a boat.” With that she walked away in the direction of a decrepit, old, tin-paneled shack. The lights were on and an “Open” sign blinked in the window.

  Brendan watched her knock, then wait for a few moments before the rusty metal door swung open and she stepped inside. He turned to Gorgoch.

  “Thanks for the ride, but I still wish you’d come with us. We could really use you.”

  Gorgoch shook his head sadly. “I don’t think you really want that.”

  “Why?” asked Lizzie.

  “If the witch can take control of me again then there’s no telling how much evil she’d make me do.” Gorgoch stared off into the night, his features elusive. “I don’t want to go back there again.”

  “So, what’s the story anyway?” Lizzie inquired.

  “It’s a long, boring tale and I wouldn’t want to waste your time with it.”

  Rory cleared his throat. “Basically, our ghostly friend was in love with a Scottish girl and… ”

  Gorgoch interrupted. “That’s enough, Rory.” Gorgoch looked at the others. “Long story short, Morna saw an opportunity to cause havoc and she did. Please tell Dorian goodbye.”

  As Gorgoch walked away, Brendan could feel the sadness in the air as if it were a physical presence—like a blanket of misery was blown off of a clothes line.

  Biddy hopped on top of a distraught and wobbly picnic table and stared out after the ghost. Gorgoch turned to vapor and drifted away. “It’s a sad tale, really.” The little Leprechaun sighed. “Morna sent her little crony, Dullahan, out to maim and cause a large raucous in a small town.”

  Brendan shook his head. What was Morna’s problem? The vision he had came to the forefront of his mind again. He remembered how angry the wizard was at that meeting. Perhaps that was the way wizards and witches really were: more Lord Voldemort than Harry Potter. He caught a few more of Biddy’s words and focused back on the conversation.

  “… leaving that town in disarray. He burned half the barns and sent those poor folks running. The headless git even killed six people,” Biddy said angrily.

  “Let me guess, Artie’s wife was among the dead,” Lizzie deduced.

  “Actually, they weren’t married just yet,” added Rory. “I think that blessed event was still a week away.”

  “Enraged by what had happened and with a heart set on revenge, Artie followed Dullahan back to Morna’s castle.” Biddy laughed at the absurdness of the idea of following the homicidal maniac back to the witch’s castle. “Somehow, he found a way in.”

  “You have got to be kidding me?” Brendan asked in disbelief.

  “Artie was persistent, he was.” Biddy recalled. “He ran into the witch’s forest and… ”

  “And,” Lizzie prodded after a pause.

  “Before he could take his revenge, the witch had trapped him. He was only human, after all,” said Biddy.

  “The old witch laughed at him and his pain,” she continued after a brief pause. “And then she cast a spell on him that was so potent that it killed him.”

  “Well, at least half of him. That half gave him a connection to the spirit world where his living half kept his connection to this world.” Rory looked back and forth between Lizzie and Brendan, the sadness stinging his eyes.

  “Ewwww,” Lizzie added with a sour face.

  Biddy chuckled a little. “The witch seized control of our friend and forced him to do terrible things, only she didn’t count on the human side of him to resist her will. She didn’t count on him to break free.”

  “That’s how he ended up in Ireland,” concluded Rory.

  “And that good, human side of him is what Morna hates most of all about humanity,” Biddy said in a rush. “I feel like she won’t stop until she has destroyed the humans and all of the magicks as well.”

  They were silent for a few moments before Brendan spoke. “She couldn’t stop Gorgoch, could she?”

  Rory and Biddy looked up, tears poised to fall from the corners of Biddy’s eyes. “No, she couldn’t,” she replied.

  “He even goes around and does all these nice things for the living,” added Rory. “Usually where Dullahan is causing a problem.”

  “You see? She hasn’t won anything yet,” Brendan declared. “So don’t give up on us. Don’t give up on our mission. We’ll stop her no matter what.”

  Dorian was standing at a distance listening in on the conversation. She knew she had judged Brendan too harshly before and that she should have listened to Biddy. Biddy was always right about people. Listening to him and his confidence in the team made her so proud to have him along. It made her feelings for him that much stronger and harder to resist. She needed to remain focused and clouding the journey with a fog-headed romance could do nothing but put the team in jeopardy. She decided to admire Brendan and respect him, but that was it. Those other feelings would have to wait, no matter how strong they were growing.

  She walked up with her bag slung over her shoulder and asked, “Where’s Gorgoch?”

  Biddy piped up first. “He left on the wind.”

  Dorian knitted her brow in frustration and reached into her bag and held out a small pint of cream. “I guess I’ll give this to an alley cat, then.”

  “Okay,” said Brendan in confusion. “Why would you have cream?”

  “Gorgoch is usually rewarded with a jug of cream,” explained Rory. “I prefer two percent milk myself.”

  Lizzie shook her head. “You people are weird.”

  “Did you get us a boat?” Brendan asked, trying to get the mission back on track.

  Dorian nodded. “It’s right over there.” She pointed to the bay where an old, rickety boat bobbed on the water. It looked like an old Viking ship only it was badly in need of repairs and a new coat of paint.

  Brendan pointed out the concern on the others’ faces. “That’s the boat? You know they have made boats in the last two-hundred years, right?”

  Dorian allowed a smile. “True, but this is the one we need. Its captain is special.”

  Moments later an old, crotchety man hobbled out of the tiny shack. He relied on his cane for balance, but Brendan wasn’t too confident in the old-timer’s ability to stand even with the cane at his disposal.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” asked Brendan, leaning in close to Dorian.

  Rory and Biddy were showing no signs of displeasure at the choice of captain. Instead they charged forward and greeted the old man by yelling, “Sean!”

  Sean, the Viking boat captain, smiled wide with a nearly toothless grin. The name stirred something in Brendan’s memory, a familiarity of sorts. He had seen this man somewhere, but he couldn’t place where.

  “Rory! Biddy! It’s good to see you again,” Sean greeted them back.

  “Uncle Sean, this is Brendan and Lizzie O’Neal,” said Dorian.

  Sean shook Lizzie’s hand and then Brendan’s, but he stared deep into the young American’s eyes. Brendan got a sense of recognition from the old man, as well. “O’Neal, you say? Hmmmm. Well, welcome aboard.”

  Chapter 11

  Merrows

  Looking around the deck of the Clair, Brendan began to worry. It was like stepping onto an already sunken boat with its barnacles, warped floor planks, and rusted bands and eyehooks. Brendan didn’t know much about boats, but he recognized that this ship was not one he would want to be sailing on. The deck was a mess with beer cans and chip bags settled into nooks and rotted out deck chairs thrown askew without the hope of luring a rear end.

  It was odd that Dorian would want to take this heap across the channel, but it was even more odd to him that
he seemed to be the only one who looked concerned. For a moment he had thought that Lizzie might be sharing his opinion, but after considering it for a moment he just assumed that she was only grossed out.

  Brendan was standing next to Dorian. He leaned in and said, “Uh, are you sure about this? I mean, I still got that money my dad left for me.”

  Dorian raised her eyebrow and smiled. “We don’t need money for this boat, silly.”

  “No kidding,” Brendan replied sarcastically. “But we may need tetanus shots when we’re done with this trip.”

  Lizzie nodded, but Dorian just ignored him. She strolled over to her uncle and placed her bag on a wobbly table.

  “The payment is in there, I assume,” Sean said, angling his eyes towards the bag.

  Dorian nodded. She reached in and pulled out an odd assortment of items. Brendan and Lizzie looked at each other with confused glances. She laid the leather-bound book from the village on the table. It had seen better days, but the binding was still holding up. She also placed a soup ladle down with a clank. Brendan allowed his eyes to travel from the ladle to Sean and a small twinkle shown in the old man’s eyes. The last item was a small baggie filled with maroon-colored roots.

  “This is all I have, Sean,” said Dorian.

  Sean looked the items over once more and scrunched up his face. “I need the iodine to make it work, deary.”

  Lizzie perked up. “Iodine? Wait a tick.” She reached into her own bag and dug around for a moment. She pulled out a small brown bottle and held it aloft. “Will this do?”

  Sean took the bottle and examined it. He opened it up and took in a large whiff. He grinned a gummy grin and nodded. “Should do just fine.”

  “What do you need all that stuff for?” Brendan asked, looking at the junk on the table.

  Sean motioned for the group to follow him. He hobbled the length of the boat until he reached the helm. Perched on a thin table was a small cauldron. Sean added the roots and the iodine to an already boiling concoction and used the ladle to stir it around. “We need a little energy to get this old boat going.”

  “And the book contains the spell that makes it all work?” asked Brendan.