The Bloodline Inheritance

by Brad A. LaMar

  It was time to get out on the streets and show that he was indeed in charge of the Realm of the Gods. He strolled towards his wardrobe and put on a regal tunic with a flourished design on his shoulders and at the hem. He fit this over his black pants and black boots and took a moment to admire himself in the mirror.

  “Sire?” a soft voice called from the doorway to his sleeping chamber.

  Camulos spun around, his sword already drawn and pointed at the figure in the doorway. The person was backlit by the rightness of the hallway behind them, but he could tell that it was a female. “Who’s there?”

  She stepped forward so that the contrast in brightness diminished allowing him to recognize Boann, the goddess of raging rivers. “What do you want, Boann? I’m busy.”

  She bowed her head before she spoke. “Rumors are flowing, Camulos, among many of the gods.”

  “Rumors?” he asked, rounding out his body to face her fully.

  “In the far reaches of Tir na nOg, small bands of gods have taken up arms against you,” she informed him.

  “Is that so? Why have I not heard of this?”

  “You have locked yourself away in your tower, Camulos, and your soldiers cannot speak. How would you know?” Boann proclaimed.

  He lowered his sword and placed it into its sheath on his belt. “And why have you taken it upon yourself to inform me, Boann?” he asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

  Boann raised her eyebrow and swept her auburn hair to the side. Her dress swished from side to side as she walked in past the threshold. “You need an ally who knows what it’s like to have true power—you need more than a bunch of mindless fachen and niseags.”

  “And you know real power?” he inquired.

  “I know it when I see it,” Boann answered.

  Camulos took a step forward. “Tell me more.”

  …

  The light from the megalith’s flash twinkled as Brendan stepped out from the seven megaliths that welcomed him to Tir na nOg. Dorian followed him onto the grass and took his hand. She could feel him twitch, like he was about to pull away, but he didn’t.

  “Where do you think we need to look first?” Dorian asked cautiously.

  Brendan’s brow was knitted and showing the signs of anger. He was annoyed by her constant questions and the condescending tone that she sometimes used. He sighed and thought about pulling his hand away from hers. No, he heard himself say in his mind. You love her.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Dorian nodded. “Sabd didn’t know where she lived, only that it was out in the country somewhere.”

  “Then I guess that’s where we start,” he said in an overly-controlled tone. “There’s also a city here. A big one called Sarvaloo.”

  “Let’s make that a last resort. I think we should avoid as many beings here as possible.”

  Brendan nodded and then closed his eyes. He had no idea what Airmid looked like, but he reached out with his senses anyway. There was a faint hint of something, but it was hard to place, like it was in constant motion. That annoyed him, but he heard his own voice again offering soothing words. Don’t let Elathan win by poisoning you.

  The thought of Airmid rose in his mind again, a faceless goddess moving about in the woods. It was nice to focus on something that didn’t give his anger a rise. He quieted his mind as best he could and listened. The energy was there somewhere nearby; something in the vicinity was connected to Airmid.

  “What is it?” Dorian asked softly.

  Brendan opened his eyes and began to glance around, noticing his environment for the first time since they arrived. He and Dorian were standing in the middle of a lush field near a forest. It could easily have been mistaken for Ireland.

  “There is something here, something that is associated with Airmid, but I can’t put my finger on it,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Okay,” she said. “We’ll take our time and look around together.”

  He led her towards the forest and paused near the first few trees to listen again. “This way.”

  The brush was thick and tangled, which made walking tiresome, but Brendan was holding it together. He just didn’t know for how much longer.

  They snaked their way down the hilly parts of the forest where it banked at a forty-five degree angle in spots. They each used the trees to balance themselves, although Brendan almost lost his footing and tore a large chunk out of the trunk of a tree causing it to creak before it finally succumbed to the imbalance. He looked at Dorian expecting to see her disappointment, but her eyes were soft and understanding.

  He had to look away from her as they walked. “It’s close, whatever it is.”

  “Do you hear that?” Dorian asked, straining her ears. “Sounds like running water.”

  “Of course,” Brendan said. “Water has to be linked to Airmid.”

  Dorian raised an inquisitive brow marking that she couldn’t quite see how he made that connection.

  “The flask, Dorian. The Flask of Airmid.”

  She could see the restraint in his eyes, and she was thankful for it. A supercharged Brendan O’Neal could do a number on her and everyone else if he lost control. She was impressed that he hadn’t yet let the poison overtake his mind.

  “Okay, then we follow the water,” she declared just before she walked ahead of him to find the path that could lead them to the cure.

  …

  “Where are you?” Crannog whispered to the night.

  He had just arrived on the edge of Buckbers, Scotland, having followed the mark that he placed on the girl’s energy. His body was like a living splotch of ink, noticeable if a person were to look for it, but most humans never even knew that a Súmaire existed. He walked from one end of the town to the other but never could pinpoint her location.

  Crannog stood at the edge of the village and gazed out on the hillside and across the plains; that’s when his senses pinged. He wasted no time and headed straight for the little house.

  …

  “What else did you forget, Dad?” Lizzie asked. “Did you forget about Brendan and me?”

  “What? No, never, Lizzie,” Oscar said turning towards her as they followed Ruger.

  It was apparent that the spirit dog thought Angie was close, but it was equally apparent that he didn’t know exactly where she was.

  “Look, I wish that I could recall everything, especially considering how difficult the life of a Protector is, but my memory was taken from me a long time ago. It’s going to be a slow process, but soon I’ll be able to tell you everything that I know.”

  Ruger’s barking drew their attention to a neighboring hilltop.

  “Look!” Garnash shouted as he pointed at a pair of figures in black.

  One was tall and lean wearing a black cloak. His pale hand was wrapped around the smaller figure’s arm holding her in place.

  “It can’t be,” Oscar whispered, drawing his fingers up to his lips in surprise.

  Ruger growled and the ghostly hairs on his back rose.

  “Who is that?” Rohl asked shakily.

  Oscar ignored the question and began to walk towards the man in black. A pair of blood-red eyes popped into his thoughts as he drew nearer. He could hear Lizzie and the others following close behind him. He adjusted the bracelet that he wore on his left wrist to make sure that it was secure in case he was going to need its help. He just might need that edge in dealing with Bodach.

  “That’s close enough, Protector,” Bodach declared, tightening his grip on the woman’s arm. He waited until the Earthlings stopped before speaking again. “You’ve come a long way for something so insignificant, Oscar O’Neal.”

  Oscar looked at the woman who was covered from head to toe, wrapped in scarves and fabric. “Angie?”

  Bodach reached up with his robotic right hand and pulled the head coverings away. The woman shook her hair to toss it out of her vision revealing two beautiful and familiar eyes.

  She looked up at Oscar and her eyes bri
ghtened. “Oscar? Is that you?” She then realized her predicament. “Help me, please!”

  “Angie!” he screamed as he took a step forward. “Give her to me now!”

  Oscar charged forward and tried to grab his wife, but he ended up passing right through her and tripped. He fell to the ground and then turned his head up at Bodach.

  “If you want her back, then you’re going to have to take her from me.” A snarled grin etched itself across Bodach’s black lips. “All you have to do is find us.”

  Oscar’s eyes moistened as Angie faded away from his sight. “No,” was all he could manage.

  Lizzie ran forward and knelt down beside her father. “I can’t believe she’s still alive.” She wrapped her arms around Oscar’s neck and cried.

  “Who was that freak?” Frank asked.

  “His name is Bodach, and he’s a Bogle,” Oscar began.

  “Bogle?” Frank shrugged.

  “Like the Boogieman,” Rohl replied.

  “Aww man! Isn’t that exactly what I said that I couldn’t deal with?”

  “Relax, Frank,” Oscar said. “I’m going to deal with him. He and I have history. He killed my father right in front of me, and then he tried to kill me and Angie, but instead I blasted his arm off and Ruger here sacrificed himself by tackling him through a portal. Apparently he’s been trapped hear in Tech Duinn ever since.”

  “Wow! I never knew that you did anything Protector-like, Dad,” Lizzie explained.

  “I didn’t remember either. Can I see what else we have in the bag?”

  Lizzie pulled the sack from her back and handed it to her father. He pulled out the bell, the flask, and the medallion. He stopped after pulling out the medallion and held it up.

  “This used to be framed and hung on our wall in the hall when I was a kid. It’s been passed down throughout our family’s history. It’s what Bodach wanted back then. Now it looks like he just wants me.” Oscar got to his feet and looked at Lizzie. “You need to use it to find Brendan. Put it in the center of any archway and it will open up a portal.”

  “What do you mean? We’re going with you to get mom back.”

  “This is my fight, and besides, you have an entire Earth to worry about.” Oscar grabbed Lizzie and pulled her into a hug before placing the medallion into her palm. “I love you.”

  “Dad?”

  Oscar took a step toward Ruger and then paused and looked back at Frank. “Let me see the falcata for a second.”

  Frank held it out and Oscar took it gently by the handle. He observed the bracelet and waited for it to react. Somehow he recalled that the bracelet was able to emulate magical powers and weapons. The bracelet began to shine and reminded him of the megaliths when someone would travel through them. He handed the sword back to Frank.

  “Take care of her,” Oscar ordered.

  Frank chuckled. “I think she’s going to take care of me.”

  “Probably all of us,” Garnash added.

  Oscar nodded and then turned to Ruger. “I love you, Lizzie. Never forget that.”

  The dog transitioned back into a fog, enveloping Oscar. Seconds later the air cleared, and Oscar was gone.

  …

  “Why won’t you listen to me?” Aine’s voice screeched as she spoke to the stubborn council of elders.

  “Decorum, young lady,” Lynette, the council chief warned. “Your claims are bothersome, Aine, and your youth is apparent.”

  Aine looked around at the council in shock. She had come to them to warn them about the Banshee’s return and intentions, but as she spoke all she received were a mix of amused expressions and disinterested body language.

  “The Banshee menace has come back to Mag Mell. Why does this council do nothing?” Aine accused.

  “That is quite enough, Aine,” Lynette silenced her. “You expect us to believe that Faolan has been taken by this supposed Banshee and her Goblin horde and that she is coming for us as well? Foolish child. The Banshees vanished long ago at the hands of the warrior Arawn. Their return is impossible. We will hear no more on the matter.”

  Anguish washed over Aine as she search their faces for just one member who could see the truth and maybe offer some hope in rescuing her husband, but their hard looks told her that she was on her own.

  …

  Under the cover of shadow Crannog inched closer to the tiny house on the hillside nestled in a small clearing. There was a small front porch with a rocking chair, and on it was perched the subject of his search. She was rocking slowly looking lost in her thoughts. She was older, but Crannog could see that she was the same girl from the woods. He could sense her spirit and her grit. This girl was something special.

  The sun was still hiding beyond the horizon though its light had already begun to paint the morning sky. He had watched her for over an hour. He could sense her power, and he grew even more confidant that she was his key to locating the Crown.

  His time was beginning to run short so Crannog readied himself to confront the girl, hoping she still hadn’t discovered who she really was.

  He moved across the lawn with ease and when he got within five meters of the porch he allowed his cover to melt away. He wanted her to see that he was coming for her. He wanted her to know that her nightmare had returned and that she was powerless to stop the inevitable. She was going to be his and there was no way to stop that truth.

  “Remember me?” Crannog asked.

  “Only every time I close my eyes. I knew you would come for me,” Peigi replied.

  She stared at him defiantly, refusing to show any fear just as she had done before. Crannog shed a rare smile at the small act.

  “You are going to be my slave, girl,” Crannog declared. “And you are going to find something for me.”

  Peigi laughed. She actually laughed in the face of the Rí Súmaire. “I’ve been waiting for you all my days, this nameless nightmare that ruined my life, waiting for the chance to kill you. I have no intention of being your slave.”

  Crannog watched the girl get to her feet and step off of the porch. She carried a sword with etchings running down the length of the blade in one hand and a foot-long scythe in the other, which also shared the etchings.

  “Where did you get those weapons?” he asked in surprise.

  Peigi adjusted her grip on the weapons subconsciously. “They have been in my family for generations, Vampire.”

  “Is that so? Do you know of what line you are descended, girl?”

  The question sounded strange to Peigi. She had never really given it much thought over the past decade since the murders. She had been so caught up in her fear and sadness that the only way to pull herself out of that dark and frightening place was to prepare for when the Vampire returned for her. Nothing else really mattered, but yet here was the murderer standing before her taking the time to ask questions.

  “Interesting,” Crannog said. “I guess that’s my little secret, then. It all makes sense as to why your family’s energy felt so empowering.”

  “You don’t get to talk about my family!” Peigi screamed as she began to charge at Crannog.

  She aimed her blade for where his heart should have been with the accuracy of a master swordsman, but the Vampire was fast and melted into an ethereal shadow to avoid the strike. Peigi continued to slash at the inky murderer, but each time he was able to avoid contact.

  Crannog drew her in closer as she tried to stab him, knowing that he needed to avoid the blades at all cost. There weren’t many things that made him fear for his mortality, but those blades had a magical history that he knew too well. He kept trying to maneuver for a position to spear her neck, but she was too fast, moving with superhuman speed that nearly matched his own. He knew that his current tactic was only going to drain his body of energy, so he had to improvise.

  Crannog spun away from the relentless girl and allowed his inky covering to dissipate. He pulled his own blade from his waist and stared at Peigi.

  “Ever wonder why you can move so
quickly?” he said, trying to catch his breath. “Or why you aren’t like other humans?”

  “Silence!” Peigi shouted.

  She came at him again leading with the sword. It clanged down on Crannog’s own blade as she applied pressure to keep them locked while swiping the scythe at his midsection. The blade sliced through the Súmaire’s shirt narrowly missing his skin. He shoved her away and stole a quick glance at the tear.

  He knew he had to end this sooner than later since she was more prepared than he ever could have anticipated; he was at a disadvantage without his greatest weapon: fear. A normal person would have crumbled, but that’s why she was special. That was why he needed her.

  Peigi flexed her wrists and spun the weapons nimbly. There was an animal-like ferocity behind her eyes that was driving her to destroy her family’s murderer. “This ends now.”

  Crannog quickly turned into the shadow and zipped away from her as fast as he could and headed directly into her house, slamming the door behind him. Peigi wasn’t sure what the thinking was behind the Vampire’s move, but in her mind it worked to her advantage. She knew every part of the house, all of the nooks and crannies. He was on her turf.

  She began to run towards the house and skipped the steps all together, landing right on the porch in front of the door. Just before she was able to push her way in she felt a searing pain blister the nape of her neck. The blades dropped from her hands and clanked on the wooden boards.

  Crannog backed away, blood dripping from his fangs and smeared on his lips. There was always blood; there was no way that it could have been avoided, even when he was sending his toxin into a human rather than siphoning blood out.

  Peigi stumbled and eventually sat down in her rocking chair and proceeded to rock slowly while clutching her neck. Eventually she stopped moving and closed her eyes.

  “Awake.” Crannog saw that Peigi’s eyes opened even though they contained the familiar blank stare of all of his former slaves. “We’ve got work to do.”

  Chapter 8

  Airmid

  Bibe had been silent for several days and that suited Toren fine. Usually when she spoke, it was just doom and gloom, especially since their window to the world and to the realms had been reduced to a dimly-lit frosted pane. They had no idea what was happening in the world around them, but Toren thought that it could have been for the best.