One large deer with metallic silver antlers stood off in the shadows watching the group of Goblins and dragons with great caution, but also with wise and observant eyes. He watched for a short time and then darted away with all the swiftness of his cursed form.
Someone needed to know what was happening. Someone was going to need to be a voice for those who could not speak. Sabd was no longer the powerful Sidhe that he had once been, but his mind was strong and his will was steeled to oppose anyone who would desecrate Otherworld and Brugh. Sabd had sworn an oath, and he intended to keep it.
…
Oscar loved the American southwest. Many years ago, after his wife had died in the car crash, he had taken Brendan and Lizzie on the same driving vacation that his father had taken him on when he was a kid.
He went to the same desert many years later, or did he? Wasn’t that a dream? Wasn’t that a fantasy? There was a living shadow and an ancient treasure that he had to find, wasn’t there?
Oscar had something to find in that same cave, only this time it was not something that he willingly sought. He was compelled to seek it. It had to be found, no matter what it was. No matter how dangerous it was. No matter how many people were going to die.
Oscar was compelled to find it.
…
Brendan stepped further into the back room at ghost Ewen’s Pub towards the angelic voice, the music from the barroom muted behind him. The lighting was soft, almost romantic, but the room was sparsely furnished. It was pretty much devoid of furniture with the exception of a small hearth, a table, a few chairs, and a black cauldron.
“Join me at the table,” her voice said soothingly.
Brendan looked at the empty chairs and was confused. “Join you? Where are you?”
“I’m here,” she said as her body formed out of the shadows.
Brendan couldn’t believe what he was looking at, not because of the way she formed but because there was something so cold and frightening about her aura. Physically the lady was gorgeous with her snow-white hair and stunning green eyes—looks and build rivaling any model on Earth—but he found himself as timid as a child around her.
“Please, join me,” she repeated, her voice sounding like the cold chorus of a gothic choir.
Brendan stepped closer, but a foreboding feeling punched him in the stomach, so he took a step back. “I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind.”
“Suit yourself,” she replied, black smoke wafting around her porcelain skin. “Most feel fear when they’re in my presence.”
“Who are you?”
“People of Earth have written about me for generations, young Protector. I have been called a sister of Ireland and a foil for King Arthur and Merlin, but I am much more than that.”
Brendan gazed into her eyes from across the room. They sparkled like emeralds against the powder white of her skin. They blazed similarly to Dorian’s eyes, like a shared heart of Ireland, a kindred gift of the Emerald Isle. This woman was that inspiration.
“Most call me the goddess of death and intuition, for I am the Morrigan,” she said.
Brendan slowly walked over and sat across from the Morrigan, even though his anxiety was growing stronger.
“Why have you come to the Chamber?” the Morrigan asked.
There were so many reasons that came to mind that Brendan didn’t know where to start. He also didn’t know how much he could trust a person sometimes called the goddess of death.
“I was sent here to train, to learn how to protect the Earth from a very, very bad and powerful god.”
“You seek wisdom, Brendan O’Neal, and that is why I led you here,” the Morrigan said confidently. The smokiness around her broadened at her claim as if it agreed with her.
“I suppose you’re the one to provide it?” he asked.
The Morrigan nodded, her expression stoic, her eyes brilliant. “I have provided both fools and wise men with the opportunity to gain what they seek.” She gestured towards the large cauldron.
“I don’t get it. Am I supposed to eat some soup or something?”
“Climb inside and you will be given the chance to gain what you desire.”
Brendan tilted his head as he considered her offer. “Let me get this straight, you expect me to climb into your big pot over there and then somehow I’m going to be given the answers to my questions? Gotta tell you, Morrigan, I’ve read Hansel and Gretel.”
The Morrigan wasn’t fazed by Brendan’s comparison. “There are risks involved, Protector, for where you will be going is filled with tricksters and prophets, illusions and spectacle, truth and virtue. If you trust your intuition, then you will learn.”
“What’s the catch? What do you want in return for giving me this break?” he asked, still skeptical.
“If you learn what you need to know, then I will be repaid in turn, if you take the path of the fool then I will reap your soul and escort you and your friends into the Realm of the Dead.” She flicked her eyes towards the corner and an arched doorway pulled itself directly out of the wall. The darkness of the archway lightened and a vision of some distant place, presumably the Realm of the Dead, came into view.
“That’s some choice,” Brendan groaned.
“Unfortunately, this is your only option and the fate of both Earth and Otherworld will depend on whether or not you are wise or foolish.”
“I could just leave and take my chances in the Chamber,” he said as he got to his feet. He walked to the door and tried to turn the knob, but it wouldn’t open. He pulled as hard as he could, which would normally rip any door off of its hinges, but this one didn’t budge.
“As I said, Brendan O’Neal, you only have two choices. Are you wise or are you foolish?”
Brendan sighed and walked over to the cauldron. He peered inside and saw nothing, not that it was empty, but there was literally nothing that could be seen, not even the bottom of the pot.
He wasn’t sure this was the right thing to do, especially without consulting Dorian, Lizzie, and the others, but he didn’t see any other options.
“Okay, Brendan,” he said to himself. “No pressure, just don’t be a fool.”
He stepped over the lip and dropped down into the darkness of the Morrigan’s cauldron.
Chapter 19
Decisions
At first Brendan only saw blackness, but the world slowly came into being around him. Fog as thick as any that he had ever seen before—with the exception of the firblogs’ swamp—hung about, taking its sweet time in lifting, but when it did he instantly recognized his surroundings.
“Corways?” he mumbled.
This incarnation of the Leprechaun village felt old and unlived in, dilapidated and gnarled, similar to the ghost Ewen’s establishment. The buildings were rounder and squatter than the ones on Corways with black windows and doors. There would be no mistaking this Corways for the real one.
“At least a Nether Corridor version of it, my boy,” a voice said from behind Brendan.
Brendan turned around and could hardly believe his eyes. “King Duncan?”
It looked like Duncan, but like the surroundings he was grayer, a diminished version of the Duncan who Dorian called father.
Duncan nodded gravely. “Yes, Brendan, I’ve been sent to counsel you about your very delicate position and situation.”
“As have I,” Bibe added, walking into view. “I’m glad you took my advice and came here.”
“He’s a bright chap, I never doubted that he’d come here,” Brett Blanche said, walking into the now growing circle.
Brendan looked around at the three gray versions of the people he once knew and shook his head. “Morrigan said that this is where I will find the answers I seek.”
“It can be,” Bibe replied. “If you are wise enough to know the difference between fallacies and truths.”
“So I’ve heard,” Brendan said upon hearing the familiar refrain.
“Shall we begin your journey to enlightenment?” Duncan gestured to the cottage
in the distance. A soft orange ray of light cut through the fog that hung overhead and shone directly on the home.
Duncan began walking and Brendan followed and that left Brett and Bibe to hand back silently, waiting for their turn to show Brendan the truth.
Once they reached the cottage, Brendan opened the door and stepped over the threshold into a well-lit room. The door closed behind him and Duncan snapped his fingers. Brendan looked around and the cottage didn’t resemble a cottage anymore, but it looked a whole lot like his father’s office at the university. Duncan hopped up onto Oscar’s desk and leaned against a paperweight that looked like an apple.
“So ask your question,” Duncan said with a gray smile.
“What has Elathan been doing since he went back to Otherworld?”
“Rest assured that he has not been sitting making candies, young Protector,” Duncan began. “As you have ascertained, he has found a way to access the dominion pulse of each realm and that has increased his power beyond any other.”
“What is a dominion pulse and how did he find them? How did he access the power in them?” Brendan had a million more questions but who really knew if this Duncan was going to answer him honestly or lead him down the wrong path.
“So eager for knowledge, so perfect for my Dorian,” Duncan said with a small chuckle. “Think of the pulse as the heart of the realm. It’s the very source of energy and balance for not only the physical place but also for the inhabitants of the realm. As for how he found them… ”
“He used my dad to locate the pulses and then he compromised them somehow,” Brendan interjected. He took a moment to think about the pulse and what Duncan had just revealed about them. “Since the pulse is the life blood of the realm, by compromising the pulses Elathan was able to pull power from them to add to his own. How does that impact the inhabitants?”
Duncan shrugged. “The lesser beings essentially become Elathan’s drones.”
“Does that mean the higher-thinking beings are up for grabs? That would mean Elathan doesn’t necessarily control them.” Brendan considered the situation in Otherworld. He knew it was was just one of many problems, but he found encouragement in the idea that there were some who could be rallied to stand on his side.
“My time with you is over.” Duncan pushed off of the paperweight and began to walk towards the edge of the desk to drop down.
“I’m sorry, by the way,” Brendan began. “That we couldn’t save you.”
Duncan nodded and waved it off like Brendan had apologized for cutting him in line. “Greater powers than our own were at work.” Duncan hopped down to the floor and looked back at Brendan reflectively. “Promise you’ll take care of her.”
Brendan smiled. “You have my word.”
“Shall we?”
The door opened and the office and Duncan both faded out of existence. Brendan stepped out into the gray Corways and Bibe strolled forward. She pointed to a neighboring cottage that became spotlighted, and he followed her inside.
“Great,” Brendan scoffed as he entered. “Morna’s castle tower.”
…
Ann wn had changed; Della wasn’t sure what exactly was different about it, but something was clearly unusual. Redcaps and Bendiths were popping up in alarming numbers, but she had stealthily avoided them. She had been wandering around for weeks not really knowing where to go or what to do. She had been surviving on berries, nuts, and root vegetables, but she longed for a meal cooked in a pot on an open flame. She also wished for a bath.
She had decided to go to the one place where she knew she could have both and that’s why she found herself standing outside of Arawn’s castle. She observed the castle for a few hours before she finally scooted across the yard to the doorframe that used to house the front door. The room was dark but quiet so she poked her head inside.
“Hello?” she called softly as she stepped across the threshold.
Her stomach gurgled and she put her hand on it to try and keep it from screaming. The first place she wanted to visit was the kitchen. She found herself getting two fires going, cutting lots of her favorite veggies and cuts of meat that Arawn had saved in his cold pantry. Soon enough water was boiling and the little Puck was working like a master chef. After a good hour’s worth of work, she had made a meal fit for a king.
“Smells delicious.”
The voice startled her so badly that she nearly fell off her stool. She looked at the man standing at the kitchen door in stunned silence.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “I am Tannus, and I am now in charge of this realm.”
Della was too shocked to reply.
“So what should I call you since you are in my kitchen and eating my food?” he asked.
“I am Della of the Pucks and I didn’t know anyone lived here, Lord Tannus. I am so sorry.”
“No harm, Della,” he said. “Actually, I have been here for a short while and found that I am already truly bored and a wee bit lonely.”
Tannus walked over and picked up a spoon and a bowl and ladled some soup and took a seat. He sipped the soup and smacked his lips. “I was right. It is delicious.”
“Thank you,” she replied meekly.
“How about you become my servant? I will need help in getting to know my realm and you may be just the Puck to do so.” He could see the doubt in her expression. “You can stay here in the castle in your own room, use the kitchen and any other room that you like.”
“That’s a generous offer, Lord Tannus,” she said.
“Just say yes, Della. All I need is that you swear your loyalty to me and Ann wn.”
“You have my loyalty and my allegiance, sire.”
“Excellent!” he said with a clap of his hands. “As they say on Earth, welcome aboard.”
…
“This place is surreal,” Garnash observed as the group stood near the bar together.
The spirit patrons milled about eating phantom food and drinking phantom drinks. Ghost Ewen stayed busy by cleaning the glasses and wiping the bar. Dorian watched the whole place with a weary suspicion.
“I know what you mean,” Lizzie agreed.
“You think this is surreal for you guys, think how I feel,” Simmons said.
“How we feel, you mean,” Ken added.
“This place is freaky for everyone, believe me,” Rohl declared. “Look at the bartender, can anyone say wacky?”
“What are you doing here?” Ewen asked, his head shooting straight up to look directly at Dorian and the others. “You’re not welcomed here.”
“Excuse me?” Dorian replied, completely caught off guard. “Are you talking to us?”
Little by little Ewen began to solidify—though his solid form was contorted and looked like a nightmare version of the barkeep. “Magicks only!”
“Guys,” Frank said, pulling the falcata from his back. “Every crazy-looking phantom in this place is looking at us.”
“And they’re becoming real, honey,” Wanda noted with panic.
Mangled and grizzly versions of Leprechauns, Brags, wizards, vampires, Magogs, griffins, and various other magicks came into being right before the groups’ eyes. Snarls and war calls were uttered and weapons were drawn.
“This is not going to end well,” Lizzie noted, her familiar purple staff springing to life in her hands.
“For them,” Frank added confidently.
…
Morna’s castle brought up hard memories for Brendan to relive in his mind. There was so much death and sadness in that tower that it was hard for him to revisit, but now, standing in a replica of the room where he took someone’s life and Dorian’s father died, he was to have his second lesson.
“Ask your questions, Brendan O’Neal, and let me lead you to the knowledge you seek.” The gray version of Bibe sat down at the altar in Morna’s tower. She motioned for Brendan to do the same.
“How can I hope to defeat Elathan when he’s gained so much power?” Brendan asked, putting his face in his
hands—a sign that the stress was beginning to get to him.
“You can’t, and you know you can’t,” the gray Bibe said flatly. “It is pointless to try. Think about it, you daft fool. He is a god, and not just any god, he’s an ultragod, a being so powerful and so untouchable… and you—you’re just a human, a plain and simple human.”
“What?” Brendan said shakily. He was caught off guard by her verbal attacks.
“Weak and mettlesome, that’s what you are,” Bibe chided. “Worthless and stupid!”
“No… ”
“Protectors of the Earth are a fallacy, a dream left over from a dying god who believed that humans could protect themselves!” Her face turned cold and aggressive, twisting up in a frightening fashion, while her voice teetered on the edge of sounding like a demon had possessed her. “What makes you think that you can even hope to defeat an ultragod?”
Brendan turned away from her, but her words repeated in his head, pounding on his thoughts and stabbing his self-confidence. Who was he to think that he could defeat an ultragod when he couldn’t even protect his friends and family? Why would Nuada select him when he was just a human?
And that’s when it hit him.
“You’re wrong about the Protector’s line, Bibe, it’s not a dream. It’s exactly as you say it is: humans protecting other humans. I may not be the brightest of my species or the most worthy, but I am a Protector just like all of those who came before me.” Brendan stared the gray Bibe in the eye and hardened his own expression. “Why will I defeat an ultragod? Because I am a Protector of Earth, a chosen bloodline that has shown more courage in the face of death than most—and I have help.”
“You are but a poor excuse for a Protector, young, weak Brendan O’Neal. What have you done in the line of duty?” Bibe’s head shook back and forth quickly and in a flash her features became serpent-like when she stopped. “You killed a witch and unleashed an even greater evil. You couldn’t even save your own father. You are pathetic. You can’t hope to defeat Elathan in all his majesty, you’ve admitted as much yourself.”
“You’re wrong!” Brendan slammed his hand down and smashed the altar in half. He stood up and stared hard at the serpent Bibe. “I just need to take the dominion pulses back and free Otherworld from his control.”
The Dominion Pulse Page 25
