“Dirty Redcaps!” the white deer with silver horns said, standing majestically before Brendan and Dorian. “Send these foul creatures away and I will take you to where you seek.”
Dorian nodded at Brendan and he telepathically grabbed the rest of the Goblin brood. His hand moved out in front and across his body and the rest of the Redcaps and unconscious Brags skidded and rolled over the edge and down the hill. Brendan let gravity take over their fortune. He had a new friend to meet.
…
The tiny farming community of Buckbers, Scotland was quiet and secluded, just the way Peigi liked it. She liked being away from the gossipy people of her hometown—a place that she could no longer come to call by name—since that fateful night when her father, mother, and two small siblings were found savagely murdered. Peigi had only been thirteen at the time of the incident, a survivor who had to carry the guilt of that night.
Already shattered from losing her family, fingers were quickly pointed at fragile Peigi and accusations were thrown her way especially when her eyewitness account made it to the townspeople. Ultimately, there wasn’t any conceivable way Peigi could have committed the heinous acts and the charges were dropped, although most of her neighbors still believed in her guilt.
Peigi sat down on the front porch rocker and tried not to think about that horrible night, but her memory had taken control, and her mind had no choice but to relive it—again.
Her father, Swaney Kerr, was a kind man who was married to a lovely woman named Glenna. They had three well-behaved children, attended church services each and every Sunday, shopped at and sold to the local market, and were pillars of the tight-knit community of Kohrs, Scotland. Swaney often served as moderator for the town council when some issue or another would pop up, lending a wise voice and a steady head. Glenna was an example of strength and pride and was an inspiration to not only Peigi, but also the other young women in Kohrs. Though they lived modestly on their winter wheat and barley farm, the Kerr family was held in high esteem, which is why that horrific night was such a shock to the townspeople.
The evening sun was beginning to set just like any other day, and Swaney and Glenna were in the barn closing up their tractor and other equipment after a long day’s work.
“Hot one today, eh?” Swaney commented as he took a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe his brow.
“Aye, I think the chickens thought I should have taken them down to the stream to get drookit,” replied Glenna with a smile.
“Could have used a dip meself.” Swaney glanced up and spotted Peigi waving to them from the front door of the cottage. “Looks like Peigi’s got dinner done. I’ve been seein’ smoke poofing from the lum all day.”
“That girl’s a brilliant cook, she is. Got a gift.”
“Aye,” agreed Swaney. “You run on up and help her with settin’ the table and squarin’ the weans. I’ll lock up out here.”
Glenna gave her husband a quick kiss and then she began to walk away. Swaney turned back to the barn, but a soft rustling to his right caught his ear. It was barely perceptible, but he swore he could hear something moving. He turned towards the direction of the noise and looked out into the shadows that now stretched from the neighboring forest. Sometimes a poisonous adder could be heard slithering about, but they wouldn’t normally come that close to human homes. As his eyes adjusted to the contrasting light of the shadow he saw what looked like the outline of a man.
“Hello?” Swaney called out to the man.
“Who are you talking to, love?” Glenna asked, looking back at Swaney.
Before he could reply the man’s outline expanded and began to flow like ink, darting so fast from the woods that neither Swaney nor Glenna could utter a single word. More than likely they didn’t even see it.
Peigi did.
Her mind was having a hard time interpreting what she had seen that evening. When the local authorities questioned her all she could tell them was that a shadow came to life and murdered her family. They didn’t believe that a shadow could do any such thing like gash her father’s throat or toss her mother’s body thirty meters into the side of the house where she fell lifeless to the lawn. They didn’t believe that her two young siblings, Keavy and Malcolm, could end up dead at the hand of a shadow, but Peigi knew that it wasn’t a shadow—not really. Shadows didn’t have the eyes of a demon. Shadows couldn’t suck the blood of their victims while a terrified thirteen-year-old sister ran for her life into the fields knowing that she had just watched as some thing had murdered her family.
Peigi couldn’t even relay the final piece of the shadow mystery to the police because they didn’t want to hear any more of her lies.
Peigi ran. She ran to find someone who could help, although her mind couldn’t conceive how anyone could help where that shadow was concerned. How did it get past her? How did it make it to Keavy and Malcolm in the house before she even turned around? Why did it spare her? Her heart moaned for her little sister and brother. Her heart moaned for her parents. And somewhere in her mind she grieved for herself, a world shattered in a matter of seconds.
She knew that the McGuffin farm was not farther than a couple of kilometers away so she darted from the fields to the woods, nimbly avoiding trees and exposed roots. She came to a sudden stop when the shadow creature appeared ahead of her. She stumbled awkwardly and twisted her ankle as she tumbled to the ground at the feet of the demon.
It stared at her, taunting her with its silence.
“Do it already!” she screamed through the quiet. “Kill me!”
The shadow leaned forward and the inkiness subsided to reveal a pale man with stringy black hair and completely black eyes. The man’s lips quivered giving a glimpse of long fangs tinged with blood hidden within his mouth.
“No,” the Súmaire said. “You have something special about you. I like that.”
Peigi wanted to cry and scream and rip the pale man’s heart out, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She just stared back in hatred.
“When the time comes, you will see me again and then you will belong to me.” The vampire’s words echoed in her ears as his physical form melted back into shadow and faded out of her sight.
Peigi recalled sitting there for another couple of hours before her mind registered the thought that her body could still move. She ran to McGuffin’s farm and the rest was history.
Peigi sat in her rocker as the truth of that night washed over her yet again. She sipped Irish coffee and waited, like she did every night, for the pale murderer to come and make good on his promise.
The day would come, she knew, but maybe she wasn’t helpless to stop him.
…
Sinead found it hard to be patient. She, Fynn, and their new Gnome friend, Sierra, arrived in Scotland via megalith portal just before sunset. As soon as they arrived they had to scurry into a patch of bushes to avoid the group of travelers who were walking up the hill to see the ancient site. Sinead was the only one among them who might pass for a human, so traveling during traffic hours was not an option.
“Do you think it was wise that we came by ourselves?” Sierra asked while leaning back on an exposed root. “Surely Tevis or Fergus could have come in handy on a journey like this.”
“True, but this isn’t a fighting mission. We’re here to find this Crown of the World and see what evil is hanging about,” Fynn countered.
The sun was low enough to have cleared out any touristy traffic from the area so Sinead got to her feet and looked out past the bushes to confirm that they were alone. “Looks like the humans have left.”
“Shall we proceed?” Fynn asked, motioning towards the opening.
Sinead lead the way out of the bushes and down the hill towards the tree line. She had been itching to get to the trees and talk to their spirits ever since they left Corways. It was so easy to do for Dryads that she found it hard to believe that other species couldn’t also do it.
There was a mish-mash of species of trees in fr
ont of her, each with a different level of eagerness to speak. She concentrated on the four trunks closest to her, mind sifting through the spectrum of sensations and connecting with the aura of the trees. The spirits of the trees showed themselves to her in an array of glowing electric colors and in the form of a thin, genderless humanoid. The spirits were free to walk around and often did, but never strayed far from their tree.
Sinead stood still and then closed her eyes. Her own spirit pulled itself free of her Earthly body like a butterfly releasing from its cocoon. The world around her was always cast in bright lights when she would converse with the trees. Her spirit walked in amongst the spirits of the trees and tried to mingle, but they were skittish about her presence.
“Hello,” she said, trying to break the ice. “I’m Sinead, and I am a Dryad.”
The tree spirits remained silent, some even edged away from her timidly.
“I have not come to hurt you,” Sinead assured them. “I have come seeking knowledge.”
An electric-pink tree spirit peered out from around a wych elm, its head swaying back and forth rhythmically. “Another who walks these lands is dark, filled with evil and hate,” its voice boomed as if a hundred voices were speaking at the same time.
The sheer volume of the tree spirit’s speech surprised Sinead and made her cover her ears. The tree must have been very old. “Who is this dark being?”
“It is unknown to us. It combs our lands at night and with the cover of shadows. It changes its physical form to hide from detection, but it cannot hide its black soul for as charred and mangled as it is we always see it,” the tree spirit lamented.
“Why is it here?”
“The same reason you are, Dryad. It seeks the Emerald Crown.”
Sinead nodded. “What is the Crown and where can I find it?”
All of the tree spirits began to sway in rhythm with the pink spirit and spoke as one. “The Crown is not meant to be found. Seek it not and flee from the evil that curses these grounds.”
The tree spirits turned their backs on her and climbed back into their respective trees, ending the conversation. She then closed her eyes and also rejoined her spirit and body.
When Sinead opened her eyes, the darkness of the evening almost surprised her. Fynn and Sierra were standing near, keeping watch.
“What did they say?” Fynn asked.
“Not much really, just that there is some sort of evil shape shifter searching for the Crown, too. They warned against us trying to find it.”
“Shape shifter? I wonder what it could be,” Sierra said.
“Whatever it is, we need to do our best to avoid it,” Fynn said, stating the obvious. “Let’s go. Moonlight is burning.”
…
Elathan’s obsidian throne was cold and icy to the touch, mimicking the environment that he strove to bring to Otherworld and Earth—not necessarily in the form of temperature, but more like a coldness of heart and a violent death to all of those who keep hope close to them. Pleasing Caoranach would be paramount if his plans were to be seen through to the end. It wasn’t that Elathan, the ultragod, needed her or anyone else to reach his true destiny, but having her on his side would hasten his ascension to ultimate power and he was a deity of little patience.
Golden energy crackled across his skin creating a soft glow in the great, dark hall. The crackling increased in intensity as the golden god closed his eyes and reached out with his mind searching for a being that didn’t want to be found.
“Morrigan?” he called out with his thoughts.
His call was met with ear-shattering silence. It was imperative that he find her for Caoranach or everything could be undone. He tried again and to his surprise a vision of the pale, green-eyed entity shimmered in his mind’s eye.
“Morrigan, I am honored by your presence,” Elathan said smugly.
“Elathan, the path you have chosen is a fool’s errand and shall never come to pass,” the Morrigan chided. “Abandon your schemes and return freedom to the dominion pulses of Otherworld or Earth’s Protector will be forced to intervene.”
Elathan actually laughed out loud at the thought of Brendan O’Neal being able to thwart his plans. “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve heard in a millennia, Morrigan. And you say I’m the fool.” He composed himself and stared at the Morrigan, her beauty not going unnoticed. “I contacted you to ask about a partnership between us. A being as powerful as yourself would certainly prosper by my side.”
“I believe you have already filled that roll with Caoranach.”
The Morrigan’s image began to fade from Elathan’s sight, though he was doing his best to keep the connection. “Where are you, Morrigan? I believe we should talk about the possibilities.”
“Your time, Elathan, will be over before it truly begins. End this madness before it becomes the death of you,” the Morrigan stated, and then she was gone.
Elathan’s energy began to calm its ferocity as he brought his mind back to the present. He thought about the Morrigan’s words and sneered. “The death of me? We shall see.”
Chapter 4
Best Laid Plans
Okay, is anyone else freaked out?” Rohl asked the group.
Lizzie, Garnash, Frank, and Oscar didn’t respond. Instead, they looked out at the lush rolling plains of overgrown grass with a few islands of trees and knew instantly that they were far from Earth. The landscape was pretty and serene, but it felt a lot like a cemetery. It was no surprise that this realm was known as the Realm of the Dead.
“This is bad. This is so bad,” Rohl said, anxiety threaded throughout his tone.
“Relax,” Lizzie said encouragingly. “I get it. We’re in Otherworld, but that is no reason to freak out.”
“You don’t get it,” Garnash said. “This place is for dead things, not us!”
“Look around you, Garnash,” Oscar said, gesturing at all of the plants. “There are many living things here; why would you think this is only for the dead?”
“You are told stories about Otherworld as a young magick who has grown up on Earth,” Garnash replied. “My father would tell me all about the six realms and the many species of beings that haled from here. There were stories about great Gnomes and gods…”
“…and Púcas, of course,” Rohl interjected.
“Right, and lots of other things that are from this place.” Garnash turned away and looked out at the broad field and then past it at a foggy area on the horizon. “This realm in particular was a place to fear.”
“Really? This place? It’s beautiful here, Garnash,” Lizzie replied.
“You don’t understand, Lizzie,” Garnash pleaded. “While this place looks peaceful, some of the most vile species in all of Otherworld live in Tech Duinn. This is Elathan’s native realm, you know. That can never be a good thing.”
Oscar looked around and sighed. “I’ve been here before.” His shoulders slumped. “I stole this realm from all who live here and handed it over to Elathan.”
Frank put his hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “Come on now, you weren’t yourself, Oscar. Look, I know you went through a whole lot, especially since I experienced not being myself for a brief time, but anything that happened—it’s not your fault.”
A memory flashed into Oscar’s mind that he never knew he had, or at least segments of it did. It had been raining that night. The glare of the street lamps on the wet road made the street nearly disappear. Car lights zoomed by, but none of them contained the one person the voice in his head ordered him to find. It was a familiar car, he knew, but it hadn’t sped around the corner yet of his quiet neighborhood.
The memory flashed away from Oscar’s mind just as quickly as it came, even though he was willing to endure the pain of what was to come. His conscious mind knew what it recorded, but his heart wanted to know what really happened.
“Dad? You okay?” Lizzie asked.
“Yeah, I just… never mind.” Oscar rubbed his hands through his hair. “What’s our next move, Lizzi
e?”
“Morrigan wasn’t very clear about what we were supposed to do here, so your guess is as good as mine,” she replied.
“Oscar, you said that you took this realm and gave it to Elathan. What did you mean by that?” Garnash asked.
“Actually, I stole every realm of Otherworld for him, and to be honest about it, it was easy.” He sighed and scratched his face, somewhat bearded over with bristly hair. “It was the same each time, really. I somehow ended up in a realm and then I would hear this heartbeat. It wasn’t necessarily like a human heart, but this pure, primal, rhythmic beat like a drum in my mind. I followed the sound until eventually I found it.”
“Found what?” Rohl asked, riveted by Oscar’s words.
“The dominion pulse, Rohl. Each and every realm has one. I called it out of hiding and then poisoned it.”
“When you say poisoned it, what does that look like, exactly?” Frank prompted.
Oscar thought back and tried to remember every detail. “Well, I can only tell you what I saw, but I wouldn’t fault you if you thought of it as crazy.”
“Try us, Dad. We’ve lived through a lot of crazy lately,” Lizzie assured him.
“I know, and I’m sorry about that.” He dropped his head in regret for a moment but recognized that thoughtful apologies weren’t going to solve anything.
“When I finally found a dominion pulse I wouldn’t be able to see it very clearly. It was small, white, and sort of danced in and out of existence right in front of my eyes, but I could always feel its presence and hear its call.”
“Now I see where Brendan gets his kookiness,” Rohl whispered to Garnash.
“Shut it, idiot,” Garnash shot back.
“Sorry, Mr. Sensitive,” Rohl replied with his palms up.
The Bloodline Inheritance Page 5
