The thunder boomed in response to the Bloodright Lord of the Descendants of Magog.
Chapter 2
Arawn
Brendan couldn’t sleep anymore. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t slept much at all. Lizzie, Frank, and Garnash had yet to return, and he was beginning to worry about them. He would have loved to call them, but Detective Simmons of the NYPD would ping his cell phone and be able to locate him. He couldn’t risk it. A late storm had come and gone and left Corways soaked. The last few clouds slowly drifted by overhead, visible only because of the full moon’s return.
Brendan was leaning against Dorian’s entryway taking in the beautiful sight of Corways. The droplets of water that covered everything in sight sparkled like diamonds making the magical land of the Leprechauns look even more magical. Not surprisingly, there were a few Leprechauns awake and walking around; most were on guard duty or patrol, though a few were early simply risers.
Brendan was taking some time to think. It was comforting to look out at the serene Irish landscape with all of its full trees and green fields. Even in the dim light of the full moon—which had made a late appearance in the night—he could appreciate the richness of the colors around him.
He focused on the moon for a moment. It was large and a comforting soft white. The dark maria were very rich and prominent, looking every bit like the oceans that had given them their name. He stared at it for a few moments before he noticed a subtle change in the Earth’s moon. Something about it was odd, like the stars around it had changed positions. It was like he was looking at a different sky. He looked back down at the village and noticed what the change had been. He was no longer in Corways.
The night was cool, and the sky was bursting with stars littering the view around the moon. A desert, complete with mesas, red dusty land, and sparse fauna replaced the lush landscape of Corways. Brendan looked at what he was leaning on and scoffed.
“Of course,” he said, pulling away from the plant. “Stupid cactus.”
He began walking and scanning the landscape for whatever it was that he was supposed to be seeing, but all he spotted was a couple of coyotes. They raised their muzzles and howled at the moon, doing what the stereotypical coyote did. The wild dogs stopped their call in mid-howl and scampered away out of view.
Brendan felt what was coming before he actually saw it. The ground was vibrating slightly. It was not a continuous tremor but more like the T-Rex from Jurassic Park with one stomp followed by another. He knew who he was about to see, and sure enough, Samoset and Sorcha were running for their lives from the giant and her gruesome pet alphyn. The Magog was closing the gap between her and her prey with each huge step.
“You run, but it is pointless, specks!” Revern shouted. Her giant mouth had a scattering of teeth and a crust of slobber permanently solidified in the corner of her lips. “I will devour your bones!”
The alphyn sprinted ahead and lunged at Sorcha, but like before, she had her fourteen-inch blades held at the ready. She took a fast step and placed her foot on a hefty boulder and pushed off with all of her might. She catapulted herself up and over the back of the alphyn and landed directly on top of the dragon-scaled beast. She wasted no time in driving her weapons in-between the creature’s shoulder blades until she heard a sickening crunch. The alphyn was injured and desperate. It unleashed a hail of fire in all directions. It tried to spear her over its shoulders with its metallic, dagger-like tongue, but to no avail. Soon enough it fell to the ground, slain and unmoving.
Revern cried out in anguish. “You killed my pet! I hate you!”
Sorcha joined Samoset as they continued to run. “Towards that cave,” she said, pointing ahead.
Revern got as far as her alphyn before she knelt down to mourn her beloved pet.
Brendan didn’t know what to feel about the scene. He could appreciate the loss the giant must have been feeling, but if he had learned anything from his adventures, it was that life was cruel.
Revern screamed again and grabbed the large boulder, and heaved it at the runners. It smashed onto the ground just in front of their stride and crumbled to bits at the entrance of the cave. The teens skidded to a stop and turned to face the giant.
“You miserable little fleas!” Revern shouted as she walked towards Sorcha and Samoset. “You have no respect for what’s beautiful.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks, landing in small puddles on the hard-packed desert earth. “Now you die.”
She pulled a large metal mace off of her back and began to charge hard at the duo. Samoset fired two arrows at her face, but she nimbly blocked them with her weapon.
“Get in the cave, Sorcha,” Samoset ordered. “I will slow her down.”
Brendan could see that Sorcha wasn’t going to go anywhere. She was stubborn, apparently like all the other O’Neals in his family.
Revern continued to charge, hoisting her mace high, aiming to bring it down on Samoset and crush him to death, but just as she neared the pair, Brendan saw something that he hadn’t expected. A broad, long sword shot out of the cave like a rocket and planted itself in the center of the giant’s chest. It had flown at her with so much speed and force that it flipped her large body backwards. She rolled a time or two, and then she didn’t move any more.
Samoset and Sorcha backed away from the cave entrance with their weapons held aloft. A moment later, a large man exited the cave and strode past the pair. He marched over to Revern’s body and yanked his sword free.
“Giant’s blood is always the thickest,” he said, wiping his blade on Revern’s vest.
Sorcha and Samoset were as dumbfounded as Brendan was. Where had this guy come from? Who was he?
The new arrival turned back and took in the sight of the two teenaged kids. “So this is how far we’ve fallen? Two kids are supposed to protect the Earth.” The man spat on the ground. “I think we’re in a lot of trouble.”
Neither of the teens said a word. The man was more intimidating than the giant had been, given that he had just killed one with a single strike.
“Bring your coffer into the cave, child, and then get out.” The man strode past the kids and then reentered the cavern. “I will take care of it.”
“But who are you?” Sorcha asked in awe.
The man stopped and looked back over his shoulder. He flicked his sword towards some bushes, causing a smattering of blood to slide off of it. “I am Arawn. Now do as I say.”
Sorcha followed the man in and placed the stone coffer on the cave floor. “Now what?”
“Go. Your job is done… for now.” Arawn picked up the box and began carrying it deeper into the cave before he paused. “Be mindful, child. The Earth is filled with the creatures of Otherworld, and you and your bloodline have been marked.” With that, the man disappeared into the darkness.
Brendan’s head was spinning. The battle he was in had been going on for so long, and now it was his turn to take up the mantel of Earth’s Protector. What would Arawn think about him? In his reverie he looked back to the full moon. It was familiar once more. He was back in Corways, and he understood—perhaps for the first time—how everything that had happened was leading to a single moment. He needed to be prepared.
…
Since the Magogs and alphyns had attacked, life and routines in Corways had changed. The Leprechauns had lost many of their people, and as a result there were always sets of villagers on patrol armed with vials of magic. They had set up reconstruction schedules in an effort to rebuild Corways as quickly as possible without exhausting her people. They still needed to have socialization and a bit of down time, but the most important routines included gathering with the family at meal times. That was one thing that the attackers couldn’t change.
Dorian and Brendan were enjoying a quiet moment at the breakfast table when Rory appeared at the doorway.
“Morning,” Rory said as a greeting.
“Good morning,” Dorian and Brendan greeted in return.
“Care for some black pudding?” Dorian offer
ed. “For some reason Brendan was put off by all the blood in it.”
“Really? It’s one of my favorites in the morning,” Rory said, surprise showing on his face. “I just came for a visit and to speak with Brendan, if he’s got the time.”
“Sure,” Brendan said, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin and rising from the table. He leaned down and kissed Dorian before exiting the house with Rory.
They walked for a few moments towards the center of town where the megaliths loomed before Brendan had to ask. “What’s going on?”
“What? Nothing,” Rory said defensively. “It’s just that these times are crazy, you know. We never seem to know when something terrible is going to happen.”
“Sure,” Brendan shrugged.
“The battle last month really got me thinking about my life.”
Brendan nodded. “It makes sense. We were in a pretty serious situation. It would make anyone stop and reflect, Rory.”
“How are you feeling, by the way?” Rory asked.
“Eh,” Brendan said with his hand held out flat, wobbling it back and forth to illustrate the point. “My shoulder feels the worst, but I’ve been getting a little bit better every day.”
“That’s good.” They passed the megaliths and kept walking towards the edge of town where the crop fields were. “A man who’s faced death begins to really think about who he is and who he wants to be. He thinks about the people in his life.”
“I guess so,” Brendan agreed.
“So, if you had that one thing that you always wanted to have in your life, you couldn’t possibly let it go, right? You would do everything in your power to cling to it, to keep it close to you at all times, right?”
“Yes, of course,” Brendan replied, not really sure of what Rory was referring to in his ramblings.
Rory nodding knowingly, his face determined. “Thanks, Brendan. You really are a friend.”
Rory strode off, leaving Brendan in the field scratching his head. “Any time.”
…
Lizzie’s heart sank when she spotted the demolished mess that was once her home in Kingston. The cab came to a jerky stop and then sped away leaving Lizzie, Frank, and Garnash planted on the sidewalk in front of the rubble. The frame was charred and bare for the world to see, somehow still able to support the mostly undamaged roof.
“I’m sorry you lost your home, Lizzie,” Garnash said from knee level.
“All of us have suffered losses,” Lizzie said, recognizing the pain that her Gnome friend still must be feeling after his father was killed by D’Quall.
Lizzie stepped past the yellow caution tape and into the mess. Frank and Garnash followed her onto the house’s slab.
“Be careful. The whole thing looks like it could come down at any minute,” Lizzie warned.
“What are we looking for?” Frank asked. He glanced around at all of the damage, doubtful that anything was salvageable.
“I’ve been thinking about it, about Dad really, and how Conchar and Elathan referred to him as the Seeker. Obviously he sought out and found the stone coffers… ”
“That turned out great for us, huh?” Garnash chirped.
“… but what if he found other things, too?” Lizzie finished.
“I see where you’re going with this,” Frank said with a smile. “What are you expecting to find in this mess? I mean, they blew up the house. I doubt anything could have survived the blast.”
“No, she may be on to something,” Garnash interjected. “The things that we’re looking for would have been made by gods and magicks. It would have taken a whole lot more than fire to destroy these things.”
Lizzie nodded. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
…
“Look out!” Sinead shouted down the stairs to Bibe who barely evaded the large, heavy trunk that had just slipped out of the assistant’s grasp.
“Watch what you’re doing, you daft idiot!” Bibe chided. “You trying to kill me or something?”
“If only,” Sinead muttered to herself. “Of course not, Lady Bibe. The trunk was too heavy for me.”
“Fine, stick to the lighter things and I’ll have Fynn get the big stuff.”
“Fynn,” Sinead scoffed, picking up a small box and walking down the stairs to the basement. “Why did you even bring that little bugger here?”
“He was alone on the Isle of Mann, now wasn’t he? I can’t abandon a Brownie when he’s alone!”
“Fine, fine, but he’s really annoying and he’s always hitting on me,” Sinead admitted, although for a Dryad, that was something that happened often—so many couldn’t resist the natural beauty of the spirits of the trees.
“He’s never hit you,” Bibe corrected.
Sinead rolled her eyes. “For being a goddess of wisdom, you sure can be clueless.”
Sinead placed the box on a side table and looked around the spacious room. It was nearly as wide open as the forest she and her Dryads clan hailed from. She was about to ask Bibe what she planned to do once the O’Neal boy arrived, but Fynn bounded into the room like a jackrabbit.
“Criminy, Fynn! You nearly scared me to death,” Sinead chastised the small Brownie.
“Sorry, love. I wouldn’t think a beautiful, independent tree spirit like yourself could be frightened of a devilishly handsome Brownie like me,” Fynn replied with a sly grin.
Sinead was not impressed. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Not sure what you mean,” Fynn replied.
“Why don’t you just quit trying?” she suggested.
“I don’t know what you are referring to, cutie,” Fynn said with a smile.
“Shut your traps,” Bibe suggested. “Let’s just get this stuff down here so we don’t have to worry about it later.”
“Fine,” both Fynn and Sinead agreed.
Toren stood nearby, watching Bibe and her helpers prepare for the Protectors. He stood by the adjacent wall and took in the hectic scene in Bibe’s basement. He really wanted to pop into view and help the small crew become ready for Brendan and the others, but he was unable to reveal himself to anyone other than his bloodline in spirit form—although he wasn’t sure if he could do that any more either given that something was strange with Nuada’s connection to the Earth. That meant that Toren’s connection was also changing, weakening somehow. How much longer he would be able to help Earth’s Protectors remained a mystery.
Toren hoped that the goddess of wisdom would be able to give Brendan, Lizzie, Dorian, and the others what they needed. Bibe appeared to be aware of the urgency of the situation and that gave the spirit some solace. What Toren wanted to know was why wasn’t Brendan already at Bibe’s? Sinead must have been thinking the same thing and asked.
Bibe shrugged. “That is not up to us. Only the Protector can decide his path.”
“Sort of like you, Sinead,” Fynn said, leaping onto a wooden table that had a variety of medieval weaponry. “You could choose to Brownie or not to Brownie.”
Sinead stared at the little flirt and watched him wiggle his eyebrows. “Not to Brownie.” She spun away and returned to the stairwell.
“Oh, she’ll be back,” Fynn announced to himself before scurrying over to the large trunk that Sinead had dropped.
He took out a line of rope from his back pocket and slung it over the top of the trunk. The rope’s end landed on top and stuck in place. Fynn yanked and the trunk teetered on its end for the briefest of moments before it toppled over and landed right on top of the Brownie. Toren thought for sure that there would be nothing but a grease spot on the ground, but Fynn surprised him as the trunk rose eighteen inches off the ground and was carted away.
“This is an interesting bunch to put your faith in, Nuada,” Toren whispered aloud before he spirited away.
…
Arawn stepped out onto the balcony terrace of his massive castle in the rolling shire of Bloxtuc in Ann wn—the Realm of Arawn. It was still surprising that Nuada had renamed the entire realm after him, a hum
an turned lesser god, because of all of the realms, Ann wn was the most breathtaking in his opinion. Jagged mountains loomed in the distance, vast oceans rolled upon white beaches, giving way to lush green hills and forests that embellished the realm’s majesty. Arawn felt fortunate, but he also felt trapped.
He was the keeper of some of the most evil, treacherous beings in all of Otherworld—gods and powerful individuals who had sided with Elathan many millennia ago. Though Arawn was the ward of the prison, he was bound by his loyalty to Nuada and to his word. That promise kept his adventurous spirit from exploring other worlds and realms, kept him from experiencing the life that he wanted to have again. He had only been sent back to Earth on one occasion, an event that he did not like to think about often. That journey had been both a blessing and a curse. He got the old feeling of complete freedom, but at the same time, he had to deal with something so evil and so demented that he was relieved to return to his guard duties. After all, his realm was peaceful and brought strength to his resolve.
Guarding such criminals as Lir, Warnach, Dewi, and Argona—his mind lingered on the beautiful war goddess, like he often did—wasn’t as exciting as it sounded. The prisoners sat in their trilithon cells in silence most days. In the beginning, they would carry on, screaming out threats against Arawn and anyone else whom they felt offended by, but that was a long time ago. Luckily, these foolish beings wouldn’t be able to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting world any time soon. In many ways Arawn pined for those days of blood and abandonment, carefree with his one true love by his side. He’d had grand adventures as a human, hunting down the bloodthirsty creatures of the night and facing off against the most ancient evils that no one should want to encounter. He had even earned a fierce reputation in the Celtic Isles as a great warrior and defender of the people.
Those days were gone, and there was no chance that the past could repeat itself. He yawned and stretched. It was time to go and carry out his promise to Nuada.
…
Everything in the burned-out house was a mess. Ash would float up when Lizzie would try to pick through the debris. She was pretty sure that they were wasting time by searching, but if there was anything there that could help them, then it would be time well spent.
The Dominion Pulse Page 3
