Dewi was lying on his sleeping place with one scaled arm held back behind his head. He had a smug expression on his face that looked menacing to Della. His eyes with vertically slit pupils, his lips corded, and his sharp fangs didn’t help ease her mind. She scampered up to his prison and held up a blue crystal.
“Lord Elathan has sent me to free you,” she said meekly.
“I know,” Dewi said pompously.
The dragon god rose to his feet and waited. Della tossed the crystal into the invisible barrier, and within minutes Dewi stepped into freedom.
He glanced down at the tiny Brownie who stood shivering in his presence. “Where is Elathan?”
“I’m not sure, Lord Dewi, but you are to go to Brugh and meet the Seeker and a necromancer named Conchar,” she squeaked.
“You dare issue me orders?” Smoke tendrils began to dance out of his flared nostrils, fire ready to char the small messenger.
“These are Elathan’s orders,” she said, the words spoken in a rush. “He spoke directly to my mind as I ran.”
Dewi relaxed a little and allowed the smoke to trail away. “I will go, but if we ever cross paths again, I will devour you, Puck.”
He was satisfied that his message was understood and for the first time in a long time, Dewi stretched out his leathery wings—pinned to his back for centuries—and took to the air. He soared a little longer than he had intended to on his way to a megalith tether. Elathan was not a patient god, so delaying his plans for too long would not have been wise.
…
Things had already begun to change in Mag Mell and that bothered Faolan. His beautiful love, Aine, must have noticed the differences as well, but having been apart for the last few days they had not had the chance to discuss it. Thankfully, she was due back at any moment and he could finally stop his worrying.
“Faolan? Are you here?”
Faolan’s heart leapt at the sound of his wife’s voice. He brushed his soft brown hair off of his bronze skin to get it completely out of his eyes. He wanted to see her as clearly as he could. “I’m here in the garden.”
He watched as a large creature with a light brown shaggy coat and sharp claws emerged on the path to the garden. Her teeth were bared and her strong frame allowed her to stalk with measured agility. Everything about her was werewolf with the exception of her eyes. Her eyes were deep and comforting to Faolan. They were the eyes of deepest love.
“Aine, I’m so happy to see you!” he said, sprinting towards the creature.
As he got closer and closer the werewolf shrank and shifted back into her human visage, a beautiful, slender blonde with those same brilliant eyes. They embraced before either of them said another word. Finally, he pulled her to arm’s length and they smiled at each other before walking to a bench they had placed in the garden a long time ago.
“How were your travels?” Faolan asked, his hand holding hers so as to not let her go away from him again.
“Strange,” she replied, confusion on her brow. “It started off like any other journey, but something’s different out there. I don’t know what it is, but there’s so much tension in Mag Mell, it looks like even the beasts and plants are affected.” She reached over and made to touch a flower only to watch it cower away from her.
“I have sensed that as well. It reminds me of the rule of the Banshees, only worse this time.” He looked out at his moon lilies as they opened their blooms for the soft moonlight. “Last time our elders chose not to act when things turned so quickly in the favor of the Banshees, but we cannot this time. We need to find out what’s happening.”
“Where should we begin our search?” Aine inquired.
Faolan got to his feet to think. “Call a meeting of the Ossorian elders, my love. We need to discuss this with them first.”
…
The Garenin Blackhouse Village quickly turned into a ghost town. It really surprised Brendan that there wasn’t a single person standing around gawking at the niseags in the sky. It would have been a different story in America. Some kid would have filmed it with his cell phone and within moments it would have a few million views online.
The black niseag landed on top of one of the black houses, testing the modest home’s structure and durability. It roared and settled its large green eyes directly on Brendan.
Rohl hopped back down next to Brendan. “I think she’s got eyes for you, kid, and that’s not a good thing.”
“Change into something that can be useful,” Brendan ordered.
“What could be useful against that, I ask you?” Rohl began changing his form but was having a hard time settling on a shape. He went from horse to dog to snake and then back to his own diminutive form.
The black niseag bellowed again, making the Púca shake with fear. “Shut that thing up, I can’t concentrate!”
Brendan could concentrate, however, and he visualized what he wanted to make happen. He thrust his hands out and sent a directed pulse of energy at the beast. The energy hit the black niseag like a dump truck and shoved it off of the small house, causing it to skid a hundred feet into the pasture. It was stunned but not wounded.
“Let’s get them away from the village.” Brendan jumped over the row of houses and landed in front of the dazed creature.
The silver niseag had been snacking on an unfortunate cow but shifted its attention to the fight when the black niseag called out to it. It growled and took to the air, swallowing the last bits of the cow as it dove toward the town and Rohl.
“Look out!” shouted Brendan.
The silver niseag opened his maw and let loose a blast of icy breathe. Brendan was about to telekinetically yank Rohl to safety when a streaking animal shot out of the sky and snatched the Púca up and away. The icy stream froze a patch of the black gravel path and the front of a house into a solid block of ice. Frozen bones and bits of the mostly-chewed cow were stuck to the house, turning it into a wintry scene from a horror movie.
“Brendan! Help!” screeched Rohl from the clutches of a beast he really couldn’t see.
“Relax, Rohl, Griffin’s got you,” Brendan reassured his companion, though he could tell it didn’t mean much to the Púca based on all of the screaming. He supposed it could have been because the silver niseag changed its flight path and began pursuing Griffin and Rohl.
“Hang on!” Brendan reached out and telekinetically lassoed the silver beast around the throat and tugged. He pulled it down and slammed it directly into the black niseag, making a large pile of scaly limbs and leathery wings.
Griffin and Rohl touched down beside Brendan. “I can’t believe you can do that!” Rohl gushed.
Brendan looked back at the pair of niseags who were beginning to untangle from each other. “It’s not over yet.”
…
Camulos watched Brendan tossing the niseags around with surprised appreciation. Camulos had seen many Protectors, magicks, and gods over his years of existence, but he had never seen anyone quite like Brendan. He admired how calm the boy was staying, even though he was facing two of the most fearsome creatures ever to come out of Otherworld. Maybe it was ignorance or the foolishness of youth, but it was an admirable characteristic to the god of war. He was looking forward to challenging the Protector at some point in the future. Hopefully Elathan would honor him with that opportunity.
“Come on, Camulos. It’s obvious that the niseags won’t distract him for long. We need to get to Bibe’s and take the sword,” urged Tannus.
“The niseags will not be defeated so easily, Tannus. We have some time.”
Tannus led the god of war away from the scene of the battle and followed his senses, confident that they were headed in the right direction.
…
The Magogs stood in a circle around the village center, surrounding Lizzie and D’Quall chanting to display their bloodlust. Frank and Garnash sat idle among the giants, chained and feeling rather downtrodden since neither could do anything about the situation.
D’Quall marched around on the outskirts of the circle yelling and thrusting his arms high into the air. His clan responded with cheers as their leader trotted before them.
“I’m going to crush you, Daughter O’Neal. I’m going to show that the Descendants of Magog will no longer live in fear of the Protector bloodline. Your death will mean a new mindset for my people, and it will provide vindication for me,” D’Quall said.
Lizzie stood in the center of the circle of giants with her eyes closed, blocking out D’Quall and the chanting and cheers of the Magogs. This was a challenge of the mind and the body. When she had last faced off with D’Quall, she hadn’t had time to think about her own safety because she ran into the battle and fought in the moment. This was different. This battle was being brought to her in unfavorable conditions against an opponent who had already confiscated her purple vial of rainbow magic and shoved her into a nearly impossible situation for a human. She opened her eyes and saw that everyone’s gaze was on her. She looked towards Frank and saw the anguish on his face.
“What will the little human do without her magic?” D’Quall mocked Lizzie. “My guess is that she’ll just die without it.”
D’Quall laughed and then began to stalk towards her, his club still attached to his side. Lizzie and D’Quall circled each other like two boxers sizing up their opponents before choosing when to strike.
“Come on, Lizzie! Show jumbo what’s up!” Frank hollered from the sidelines.
“Quiet, you,” warned a large female Magog standing watch over Frank and Garnash.
“Isn’t that sweet? Her little boyfriend thinks she stands a chance without her magic. That’s adorable.” The humor D’Quall felt was short-lived and he turned a snarl on Lizzie. “I want you to know that I have never been beaten in battle in my entire life, so to you I give great respect. Even so, I have never hated a person more than I hate you at this moment. I will show no mercy to you or to your friends,” the Bloodright Lord said, pointing at her compatriots in chains. “I will not only snap off every one of your limbs and smash these two to bits, but I will go back to Corways and wipe every Leprechaun from the face of the Earth. Your brother and your father will beg for mercy as I tear their heads from their bodies.”
Lizzie narrowed her eyes and focused on the terrible things D’Quall was saying. He was stirring something in her that she had never felt before. Her fear and her anxiety were subsiding, replaced with a focus she only had when training.
D’Quall clomped forward and tried to stomp on Lizzie, but she dove out of the way and rolled into a sprint that took her to the opposite side of the circle near Frank and Garnash. The crowd cheered lusting for blood—just not too quickly. First, they wanted to enjoy the show.
“Be smart, Lizzie. You know how to beat him,” Garnash encouraged.
Lizzie looked back at D’Quall and her eyes flashed over with a bright purple for just a moment before retreating to their normal shade. The Magog charged at her again and she stood there waiting. He pulled out his club as he neared her, but she still stood her ground, to Frank and Garnash’s chagrin. Her eyes felt hot, fixated on her large foe. D’Quall brought his club down with a scream of hate, sure that his weapon was going to find its mark.
Frank and Garnash screamed in fear of what was about to happen to Lizzie, but as her entire body took on a purple glow Gnome, Magog, and human grew silent.
A purple staff flashed to life in Lizzie’s hands as she brought up her arms to defend herself against the Magog’s attack. D’Quall’s club was stopped short of Lizzie’s head and nearly bounced free of his grasp. He stepped back and stared in bewilderment at the teen that was now glowing.
“That can’t be! I deprived you of your magic,” D’Quall whined.
Lizzie spun and slashed the staff around her with expertise. She pointed it at the giant and glared at him through purple irises. “I am a Protector of the Earth, jerk, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”
D’Quall roared in anger and tried to bring his club down again, but Lizzie was too fast for him and easily evaded the blow. She ran straight at the giant’s legs and thwacked D’Quall on his right knee, causing a sickening crunch as his patella shattered and a drizzle of blood leaked onto the hard-packed dirt. She rounded back as the giant fell to one knee and walloped him in the small of the back making him lose his handle on the club. Lizzie spun around to D’Quall’s front and swung the staff directly into his jaw, crunching the hinge and breaking it easily.
D’Quall fell onto his side and writhed in pain. Lizzie marched towards the giants who were holding Frank and Garnash hostage and pointed her staff at them. “Let them go. Now.”
The Magogs backed away, leaving the pair in chains on the ground. Lizzie reached out with her staff and touched the chains, melting the metal away. She held out her hand and helped Frank up, pulling him into a quick kiss and a long hug.
“I don’t think we should stay put for too long,” Garnash suggested. “After all, we are in the den of a lot of angry Magogs.”
A low grumbling came over the crowd of giants. Weapons were beginning to be pulled out, roars of anger were being released, and a few alphyns trotted in to create a second perimeter around the Magog valley village.
“Ready yourselves, boys,” Lizzie warned Frank and Garnash.
The Gnome King clapped his hands together calling on the plasma-like power of his ancestors. Frank pulled the falcata from its place on his back and geared up for a fight where he and his friends were outnumbered thirty-to-one.
D’Quall crawled over to his club, stood it on its end, and used it to pull himself to a standing position. He limped around to face Lizzie, Frank, and Garnash; what surprised them the most was that he was actually smiling, broken jaw and all.
“You see, you were never going to be able to get out of here alive,” he chuckled. “We are going to kill you and eat you and then the rest will die at the hands of the mighty Magogs. Kill… ”
D’Quall’s pupils grew large and his mouth hung open as a huge hole in the center of his chest opened up. It was perfectly round and had small crackles of red energy that cauterized the wound as it was created. D’Quall’s order was left on the tip of his lifeless tongue when he hit the ground with an enormous thud.
Confusion and panic began to set in; Magogs were accusing other Magogs, some were even taking credit for killing D’Quall, claiming their right to the leadership role, but all of them fell silent when the wall of red energy barreled its way past the alphyns and the giants’ circle, knocking everyone and everything aside. Huge clouds of dust and debris floated in the air, but two glowing red lights were easily seen emerging from the wreckage.
“Dorian!” Lizzie shouted.
Dorian nodded at Lizzie, but her face was stern, caught in the seriousness of the moment. “Magogs,” she called. “My friends and I are leaving. If you wish to fight, then we will kill every last one of you, but if you let us walk, then I will consider this the end of our quarrel.”
The following few moments were tense, Magogs were silent, seemingly contemplating what to do. Finally, a large female with a tight strawberry blonde braid stepped forward. “Let them go.”
“Arleen, what are you saying?” an older male with a braided grey beard asked. “They just killed the Bloodright Lord, we can’t just let them go.”
“Why not?” Arleen asked, turning back to her kinsmen. “We didn’t ask for a war with the Leprechauns. I don’t really remember us wanting to feud with the Gnomes either, do you?” She searched the ranks of the Magogs. “We have a chance to start fresh right here in our valley, brothers and sisters.”
Dorian’s hands never stopped glowing as she awaited their decision. No matter what happened in the next few minutes, she recognized that things had already changed among the giants.
Arleen waited for any argument from the others but was met with silence and cross looks. She looked down at Dorian and the two allowed the look to linger momentarily. Arleen turned away from the center of town and walked away, never looking back. Many of the other Magogs followed her lead and walked away as well, while some lingered, standing tall and proud, not wanting to show weakness to the intruders.
“Come on, we’re going home,” Dorian declared. Taking the lead she marched Lizzie, Frank, and Garnash out of the valley village of the Descendants of Magog.
…
Brendan rubbed the griffin on the side of his neck. “I’m sure glad to see you.” Griffin nuzzled his head into Brendan’s sore shoulder causing him to grimace. “Heads up, fellas. The beasts are back up.”
“Can’t you just crush them and get it over with already?” Rohl asked, transforming into a large black bear, the glowing orange eyes the only sign that he was the Púca.
“If we don’t have to kill them then we won’t, but let’s try not to let them kill us, either.”
The niseags shook like wet dogs apparently trying to jar the cobwebs loose before they took a few snaps at one another. They roared, and like clockwork another niseag joined the pair, only this one had hints of red in its scales. The red niseag had burst from a different loch about a quarter of a mile away and came streaking in to come to the aide of its kind.
“Great,” Rohl said sarcastically. “This gets better and better.”
“You get used to it,” Brendan retorted.
The niseags hopped into the air and began to circle the trio. They started off so high that at first Brendan thought they were leaving, but they started to spiral down, releasing their icy breath so that it would meet at the central point of the circle.
“What are they doing?” Rohl asked.
“Not sure,” Brendan replied.
It soon became clear when an icy funnel cloud began to form high above their heads and slammed down around them, trapping Brendan, Rohl, and Griffin in the center. The trio of niseags descended causing the wall of icy air to move faster and faster around them. It was getting harder to breath and the chill from the beasts’ breath was growing unbearable.
“Do something!” pleaded Rohl, his feet lifting off of the ground.
Brendan and Griffin were being pulled into the air as well, trailing the Púca by a few feet. The niseags had created a cold zone directly above Brendan’s head and the differences in air pressure were sucking him and the magicks up rapidly. He had to think fast, but it was getting harder to do in the frigid wind.
Brendan cupped his hands over his nose and mouth and took a couple of breaths. They were nearing the height of the cold zone so he did the only thing that came to mind. Brendan reached his arm high above his head while he spun and focused on the clouds elevated in the atmosphere. He could feel the pent-up energy dancing among the electrons waiting to be called upon and so that’s exactly what he did. Several thousand crackling silver lightning bolts poured from the sky in a dazzling display of atmospheric and magical power. The bolts blasted the niseags with such voltage that Brendan could see their skeletons as if he were looking at an x-ray.
The large beasts abandoned their icy vortex and attempted to escape the barrage of bolts, but the electric current had already snared the red and the silver niseags and held them tightly in the path. The black niseag was blown from the sky and tumbled towards the ground below, landing half in and half out of one of the lochs. Once the bolt had shown its might, it released the red and silver niseags and plummeted them to the ground landing in two smoke piles on either side of the black niseag.
Brendan and Rohl began plunging towards the Earth as the cyclone of freezing air dissipated, but Griffin was able to collect himself and bring them gently to the grass. The three sat down and gasped for breath.
“Well, that was something,” Rohl said, his body reverting back to Púca form. “I could have done without the delay, though.”
“There’s no pleasing some people,” Brendan said with a wry grin.
Griffin staggered to a standing position and clawed at the ground towards the unmoving niseags. Brendan motioned for Rohl to go and investigate the condition of the niseags.
“Wait. What? You want me to go over to them?” Rohl laughed. “You are a header!”
Brendan sighed and walked over to the black niseag. It was breathing shallowly, almost like it was in a coma. Brendan pushed it completely into the water where it sank out of sight. The silver and red niseags showed no signs of life.
“What should we do with their bodies? It will freak people out to see something like this lying here,” Brendan noted.
“Fling them into the ocean,” suggested Rohl. “People are always finding kooky stuff washing ashore that they can’t explain. Many a time what they find are dead creatures that originated in Otherworld but their logical minds won’t let them think about anything like that.”
Brendan shrugged and hoisted one niseag at a time and threw them towards the Atlantic. He gave each of them an extra pulse in mid-fight to push them further out to sea so that with any luck the corpses would never be found.
Finding Bibe was next on Brendan’s list.
…
“Didn’t anyone hear the knock on the door?” Bibe called out. She waited for some sort of reply, but the small cottage was quiet. She turned back to the mirror in her very old vanity in her bedroom, whispered a final chant, and walked into the hallway, calling out again for Fynn and Sinead. No one replied. “Worthless help if ever there was any,” she muttered to herself as she left her bedroom and walked down the hallway to her living room.
Bibe’s cottage looked modest on the exterior, but she was feeling the length of it as each step jarred her shoulders. Flying had certainly taken a toll over the years.
Knock, knock, knock!
“Keep your pants on, I’m coming!” she shouted.
Bibe unlocked the latch and pulled the door open and couldn’t believe her eyes. “Camulos!”
“Not the powerful being you were expecting, Bibe?” Camulos said, his brow raised and his eyes bright.
Bibe tried to slam the door shut, but Camulos kicked it in, throwing both the door and Bibe to the floor.
“You were going to invite us in, weren’t you?” the war god said as he motioned for Tannus. He pulled out a few blue crystals, along with his favorite blade, and smiled like a wolf that happened upon a lonely sheep. “Find the sword, Tannus. I’d like to have a little chat with my old friend.”