Della remained hidden in the bushes during the whole ordeal, but she especially hunkered down when Lir showed up. Of all the beings that Arawn kept in his trilithon prisons, Lir was the most terrifying. He was heartless and mirthless, black to his core. She became even more frightened of him when Lir carried Arawn’s flimsy, limp body away. Argona had emerged from the castle walking more somberly than Della would have expected. She followed Lir and mumbled sadly to herself along the way. Della apparently went unnoticed by her masters. Her breath caught in her chest as they walked further into the distance. The Puck forced her body and all of its involuntary functions to be silent as Argona and Lir disappeared from her sight.
“This is my chance,” she uttered softly.
She ran.
Fast.
Arawn’s castle was fading farther and farther behind her and that suited her fine. She moved quickly through the forests and the fields, in a hurry, but not really sure of her destination. Trees and rocks and rivers all started to look the same as she allowed her subconscious to take over the navigation. She finally stopped running and collapsed onto a soft patch of grass beneath a huge elm tree. She was huffing and puffing, trying to pull in oxygen in big gulps.
“So the traitor returns,” a voice from overhead scoffed.
Della hopped to her feet and backed away from the tree. She scanned up and around her and cringed when she spotted two fellow Pucks. Merble and Cy—former friends—dangling from a crooked branch. She realized that her subconscious had run her back to her birthplace and unfortunately for her, it was no longer a friendly site.
“I can’t believe my eyes, Merble,” Cy replied. “Never thought she would have had the guts to return to the Hallow.”
“Please, I didn’t come here for trouble,” Della pleaded.
“Trouble? You’re the one who brings trouble here, Della,” Merble replied, a scowl creasing her forehead. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here after last time.”
“Yeah, you were lucky the Grand Pim wouldn’t let us toss you in the gorge.” Cy dropped down to the ground a few feet from Della. He stood slightly taller than her and had his midnight black hair hanging around his head in loose curls. “But the Grand Pim isn’t here right now, is she?”
Merble let loose a whistle and Pucks started popping out of the trees, bushes, and high grasses, surrounding Cy and Della. Merble looked around at her clan—angry and seething at a Puck they believed to be a traitor—and they stared back. Their eyes glared at Della, displaying the hatred they were feeling for her.
“Please, I wasn’t able to escape until now. You don’t know what it was like,” she begged.
“No, you don’t know what it was like!” Merble shouted as she landed next to Della.
Merble grabbed the traitor by the hair and swung her towards the others. Della stumbled and fell into the clamp-like grasp of her kinsmen. They held her tightly even though she struggled mightily and began pulling her towards the edge of the ravine—a several hundred-foot drop to the river below.
“You don’t know how you have embarrassed our clan,” Merble snarled. “The harassment we took because others knew what you were doing and who you were working for.”
“Now we can show all of them that you are no longer one of us,” Cy stated. “Toss her over!”
Three rough looking male Pucks took her by her limbs and dragged her to the edge. They weren’t gentle when they slung her over the rim and out into the free space. The Pucks cheered as they watched her tumble towards the river.
Della was surprisingly calm. The cold air rushed into her face like a refreshing splash of a cold mountain stream. She waited patiently as she fell, wanting to fall beneath the cover of the low-lying clouds just below. Perhaps if they thought she was dead they wouldn’t pursue her.
Her body sailed through the clouds and she extended her cloak, catching the air just so, and zoomed parallel to the river that was still a good two hundred feet below her.
She sailed on the breeze not sure of what the future held for her, only that she was going to avoid Argona and the Pucks for as long as she possibly could.
…
“Okay, okay, hold on for a minute,” Brendan said, rubbing his eyes to help clear his head. “How did this happen? Why are you trapped in a mirror?”
“Don’t be daft, boy, no one can be trapped in a mirror,” Bibe’s image chuckled. “Think of me like a recording you humans are so fond of—you know like on the InterTube and VHS.”
Brendan cocked his head but got the gist. “So where is Bibe, you know the living one?”
The image shrugged. “Probably dead, who knows, but that’s not important now.”
“It’s probably pretty important to her… to you… whatever,” Brendan retorted, beginning to get flustered.
“Buck up, torty, you’re a Protector of the Earth and that comes with a great deal of responsibility. You can’t go worrying about every little life that’s flip-flapping around on the Earth. You need to focus, boy. Elathan is back and it does not get worse than that!”
“Thanks, I’m feeling better already,” Brendan replied sarcastically.
“Not all is lost, Brendan.” Bibe shook her head knowingly. “Being a Protector of the Earth not only brings responsibility and dangers that no human has ever faced but powers like none other. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you feel yourself growing stronger than ever before?”
“Sure, but that’s why I’m here. You were supposed to train me.”
“That’s why I’m here,” she said, eyeing Brendan as if he had the mind of a flea. “If the live me is gone, which by the way, Bibe figured would happen, then you got me as your back up.”
“Okay, fine. What do we do first?”
“Great, that’s the spirit. Did you find your sword downstairs, ‘cause you’re going to need it.”
Brendan pursed his lips and shook his head. “Sorry, Camulos got here before I did and stole it. I think he did something to you, too.”
“No sword! Great, we’re screwed!” mirror Bibe exclaimed.
“Why is the sword so important?”
“Don’t you know anything about anything, half-wit? The sword is Nuada’s gift to his Protectors, but not one of them has ever had it until you.” She stared at his eyes and waited for him to catch up. “Don’t you see, this is it, the end, there’s one shot and if you fail, then the Earth and everyone on it dies. You have to have that sword to even have a chance of defeating Elathan.”
Brendan slumped back in his chair, the weight of the world sitting squarely on his chest. “So you’re saying this is big?”
Mirror Bibe pointed at her own head. “You think?”
…
“Tech Duinn,” Tannus said with a sigh. “I never thought I’d be back here again or anywhere else in Otherworld for that matter.”
He gazed out at the fire lake outside of Elathan’s castle and took in a deep, hot breath. Camulos stepped around Tannus—the Sword of the Protectors balanced against his shoulder—and strode towards the castle. “Come, Tannus, Lord Elathan awaits.”
The doors slowly opened upon their approach, scraping across the stone floor and filling the vast hall with echoes upon echoes. Camulos did not hesitate to walk right in, swallowed by shadows in the darkened castle, but Tannus stopped at the threshold. He felt himself shaking slightly, his nerves beginning to get the best of him.
“No turning back now, Tannus,” he whispered to himself.
“Come on, Tannus,” Camulos called from the dark hall.
Tannus stepped into the darkness and saw that Camulos had already started walking ahead. He hastened his pace and evened up with the war god just as they entered Elathan’s throne room. The golden god was perched on his throne looking at a massive living mural of Otherworld on the wall. Tannus noticed that Brugh and Mag Mell were shrouded in gold while Ann wn, Tech Duinn, Caer Wydr, and Tir na nOg were all glowing white like tiny LED lights back on Earth.
“Lord Elathan,” Camulos said with a respectful bow. “We present to you the Sword of the Protectors.”
Elathan flinched. “Handle that sword with care, Camulos. It’s more powerful than you perceive.”
Camulos and Tannus looked at each other in confusion, trying to think back about their experience with the sword. Had either one mishandled it or accidentally cut themselves on its edge?
“I want you to dispose of it,” Elathan ordered, his expression showing his disdain for the object.
“Where does one dispose of such a powerful weapon, my lord?” Camulos asked.
“You will take the sword to Brugh and toss it into the lake of the Sidhe cave where we first established our alignment,” Elathan ordered.
“The lake?” Camulos asked in confusion. “I fail to see how throwing the sword into a crystal clear lake would stop anyone from finding it.”
Elathan smirked at Camulos’s naivety. “Just do as I say and the sword will be lost forever.”
Tannus turned back towards the door as the scraping of the door signaled the arrival of someone new. The clicking of boot heels on the stone floor confirmed it.
“Lord Elathan, it has been too long!” bellowed Lir, dragging Arawn’s limp form behind him, Argona a step or two behind that. “There is much joy in your return.”
Elathan nodded slowly to acknowledge the arrival of his most experienced and vicious follower. “I see that you have come bearing gifts.”
“Our allegiance and a traitor to your will, my lord,” Lir replied, his beard unable to hide the satisfaction on his face.
Tannus looked around at the others that surrounded Elathan with him. Three of them were patrons of war leaving him with the only non-war claim. He began to wonder if he belonged.
“Nonsense, Tannus,” Elathan hissed. “Though the others are more war-minded than a god like yourself, you have shown loyalty to me and that shall be rewarded.”
Tannus was confused how the golden god even knew what he was thinking. Elathan raised his palm towards Tannus and released a small golden pulse. Tannus tensed up but the pulse sailed right through him without any sensation at all.
“The powers that Nuada stole from you have been restored and augmented. Behold a new god of storms,” Elathan announced. “Show us your might.”
Tannus’ eyes clouded over and electricity surged through his body. The hairs on his neck stood on end as he caused a storm cloud to form high overhead in the great hall. Gallons and gallons of water began to fall where everyone could see.
“A gentle rain, Tannus, is that all you can offer?” Lir said with a snicker, a god of storms himself.
Tannus snarled and then got creative. Particles of dust that swirled within the clouds were pushed together to form fist-sized stones. They were being jostled about and Tannus increased the pressure on them until they became molten. He shot the brimstone from the clouds and smashed them into the hard floor, causing them to explode on contact.
Tannus turned to Lir. “Don’t worry, Lir, it’s all coming back to me.”
Elathan waved his hand and the storm dissipated in an instant. Tannus was shocked. How could another god null his powers so easily even when he was more powerful than before? He knew at that moment that he was serving the most powerful god in Otherworld.
Elathan got up from his seat and strode to stand over Arawn to study him. He reached out to the Celtic warrior’s mind but ran into block after block.
“I see that Nuada has protected your mind very well, Arawn.” Elathan grunted his disappointment and turned towards Lir and Argona.
“Were you able to get Caoranach’s location from him?” he asked. Lir and Argona didn’t have to say; he knew that Arawn did not talk. “Take him to the trilithon in Duinn Stair. We will need the Seeker’s talents in this instance.”
…
Lub-dub!
Up there, up the steep, steep mountainside, the heart calls to me, thought Oscar.
He drove his hands deep into the ice and snow and climbed higher and higher. It was close.
Oscar reached his arm up and found a good hold and pulled his body up onto a ledge. It was a wide shelf, fifty feet from the lip to the rock face of the mountain and hundreds of feet long.
“Nochtann do chroí! Reveal your heart!” he shouted.
A small, almost imperceptible dot of white light blinked into view in front of him.
“There you are. Nochtann do chroí! Reveal your heart!” he repeated.
The pulse responded as Oscar gave the command a few more times. He pulled the token from his pocket and began to walk towards the soul of Caer Wydr when something hit him hard in the chest and drove him to the snow covered ground. That was unexpected.
…
Conchar and Warnach finally reached the lip and pulled up onto the safer footing of the ledge. That was when they saw the ferocious beast with a plume of feathers, one eye, and a muscled, gray fur-covered body trying to rip the Seeker apart.
“Fachen!” screeched Warnach, pulling his heavy iron-chain mace from his side hitch. He stomped forward swinging the massive weapon over his head like a helicopter blade.
“That’s a fachen?” Conchar exclaimed, not believing his eyes. He pulled his wand, expecting that he would have to use it on the hideous beast.
The fachen struck down with its powerful talons again and again, clanging off of the Seeker’s force field, missing him by the distance of the thin field that kept him warm. The beast arched its back and flexed its muscled arms, howling in frustration. Its mane of feathers ruffled out, trembling in response, and its one eye was wide with anger.
“Release him!” Warnach commanded, throwing his mace with precision directly into the beast’s chest causing it to stumble back a few feet and allowing the Seeker to roll out from under the creature, panting and catching his breath.
Conchar ran closer to the fachen and realized that the thing was massive. It stood at least twelve feet tall and was as wide as a shed. Muscles rippled from its feet to his thick neck. The mouth was a semi-beak, semi-maw, but it was filled with razor-sharp teeth, bloodstained and snapping in anticipation of a fresh kill. This was not his Earth’s fachen.
The fachen roared and beat its chest sending thumping vibrations that rattled frozen balls of ice on the ground. Conchar sneered and shot a stream of energy from his wand directly at the beast, but the thick fur deflected the spell easily, shocking the wizard and making him realize for the first time that he was not the most powerful being around.
The fachen glared at Conchar and bounded towards the wizard, faster than a cheetah with a physique that would make a lion cower. Just before the beast could reach Conchar, Warnach placed his left shoulder square into its ribs and tossed it a couple dozen feet away. The creature recovered quickly and snapped back at the Druid Magog, causing him to lose hold of his mace.
The Seeker pushed up to all fours and then finally to his feet. The pulse was screaming at him, begging for his attention and he was compelled to answer its call. He walked towards the beacon, Elathan’s token sitting cold in the palm of his hand, and when he reached the dominion pulse he plunged his hand deep inside the ball of white light, planting Elathan’s token. The beacon flashed over with a golden hue just before a perceptible shock wave boomed from the pulse.
The fachen hardly noticed the wave of energy that quickly passed through its body. It grabbed Warnach by the throat and hoisted him into the air, digging its claws into his skin. Blood dripped from the ten holes the beast gouged into Warnach’s neck before it tossed him aside. He slid across the ice and snow and smashed into a large snowdrift that had hidden itself against the mountain face.
The Seeker reached out and seized the droplets of Warnach’s blood that splattered onto the snow. He fed the blood into the anxious pulse and released the second wave of energy announcing Warnach’s role as the Watcher.
The fachen didn’t seem to notice this either and continued to eye the wizard with glutinous hunger. Conchar sent spell after spell at the aggressive fachen, but the beast shrugged them off as they came. It dropped to all fours and galloped towards the necromancer, determined to tear him apart.
Warnach shrugged off the mound of snow that was piled on top of him. He focused on his mace, causing it to move slightly. It was hard to concentrate on his connection with the weapon in these temperatures, but he had to try. Finally the mace was airborne and he directed it right at the fachen and smashed it directly in the face. A stream of blood shot out of the creature’s nose as it stumbled with a yelp of pain.
The fachen howled and grunted, glaring at Warnach, Conchar, and Oscar and within moments dozens of fachens began appearing on the mountain’s ledge, encircling the trio of intruders. Most of the fachens were gray but there were a few that were white and even a couple of black-furred oddities since genetics had deprived them of their native camouflage for the wintery backdrop.
“I’d say we’re in trouble, Warnach,” Conchar stated the obvious.
The wild creatures stalked forward, weary of the giant’s weapon. Warnach glanced over at the pulse and noticed the golden flashes in the bright white light and an idea came to mind.
“In the name of Lord Elathan, the ruler of this realm, I command you to stand down!”
Surprisingly, the fachens did just that. Their plumes of feathers shook and their expressions spoke to how they didn’t want to comply, but they did anyway.
Warnach turned to Conchar. “You see, wizard, that is why we want to own the pulse.” He turned back and spread his arms dramatically, gesturing to the fierce creatures surrounding them. “Behold the soldiers of Elathan’s army.”
…
Brendan blinked his eyes several times, trying to figure out why everything in Bibe’s room had suddenly turned white and snow covered. The temperature dropped drastically and he could see his breath float away from him in a thick puffy cloud.
Lub-dub!
Experiencing a vision was something that Brendan had grown accustomed to, but these heart visions—as he had come to call them—were different. They were happening in the here and now as opposed to some time in the distant past. Each time Brendan heard the thumping of the heart, the picture of the circumstances that Oscar was in grew a bit clearer.
There were mountains and snow as far as the eye could see with specks of creatures littering the mountainsides howling at a hidden moon. Oscar was there somewhere but Brendan couldn’t be sure of where. What he really noticed was the tension in the air. The realm was seemingly trapped and struggling against its binds. In hindsight he recognized the signs that the other realms’ wills were also being bent into unnatural tendencies.
He felt the pain of the realms as they fought, but a massive jolt shook the fight right out of them and their voices grew silent. Brendan glanced around and saw only the flakes dancing on the strong wind below him. That’s when he finally spotted Oscar and two dark, shadowed figures. One of the figures was enormous, reminding Brendan of the Magogs, while the other was nearer Oscar’s size. That shadow felt familiar in a creepy sort of way.
Brendan willed his consciousness to dive closer to Oscar and the shadows. His mind wound in and out of flurries and powerful fachen and circled around the bright ball of light. The smaller shadow figure seemed to take notice of Brendan, but he wasn’t sure how that was possible. The shadow moved closer to the light and to Oscar and immediately a massive dome of inky smoke and shadow blanketed the area.
“No, Protector, you are not privy!” a bellowing yell burst out from the shadow dome like thunder, causing Brendan’s connection to the heart vision to falter.
Brendan’s body jerked in and startled the image of Bibe in her mirror.
“What’s the matter with you, boy?” she asked.
Brendan shook his head slowly. “Conchar.”
…
“What is up with these houses?” Frank asked as Blackhouse village of Carloway came into view.
“It’s a very old settlement,” Tevis answered.
“But not as old as us, eh?” Fergus said with a shove to his brother.
Tevis lost his footing and stumbled over a shin-level dry stone dyke and toppled on top of the nearest house. Somehow the small building remained intact.
“You big numpty!” shouted Tevis, using the house for leverage, causing a groan that Dorian did not want to hear.
“Careful, Tevis,” Dorian ordered. “That’s someone’s house.”
“It doesn’t look like anyone lives here, Dorian,” Lizzie said. “It’s like the townspeople have been gone for months.”
The others looked around and didn’t see a counterpoint. The place was like a ghost town—spirit free, of course, but without the living just the same.
“To be fair, this is an old town. Maybe there just aren’t that many people around.” Frank walked towards the window of the house that Tevis nearly crushed and peeked inside. “Dust and covered furniture here.”
“I smell people, though,” Fergus said with a sniff. “Smelly little buggers, they are.”
“This is all fine and dandy, but we’re looking for one person, right. So where is Bibe? We need to find Brendan,” Garnash said, turning his attention to the task at hand.
Fergus took a few steps away from the others to get upwind of them—to their dismay—and sniffed the air again. “He’s this way.”
The group followed Fergus until they reached a black house on the edge of town that backed up to a farm.
“This must be the place,” Lizzie said, pointing to Griffin who was snoozing under a stubby tree. “Great watchdog, huh?”
Dorian, Lizzie, Frank, and Garnash approached the door. Dorian turned back to her large, new friends. “Wait out here, guys. We won’t be long.”
…
“Are you back with me, Brendan?” Bibe asked Brendan, who nodded. “Good, but I wish you would quit your sulking.”
“I can’t lie, Bibe, I’m a little down,” Brendan replied. “You just told me that the only possible way to defeat Elathan was stolen moments before I got here.” He threw his hands into the air. “I hate to be a bit of a pessimist, but I think the world is done for.”
“Flaming giblets, boy, don’t be so dramatic,” the image of Bibe chided. “As with so many other problems in life, there’s always another way.”
Brendan looked back at the mirror hopefully. “Well?”
“Huh?” Bibe looked back, surprised by the question. “Well, I don’t know the solution right now, but we’ll figure it out. Chin up.”
Brendan wished he could feel as optimistic as Bibe, but she hadn’t just taken the beating of a lifetime at Elathan’s hands. It was hard to imagine that he would have a shot at defeating the golden god with or without the sword.
“Did you hear that?” Bibe asked, her head turning to the door.
Brendan hurried to the doorway and stepped into the hall, ready for a fight. “Rohl? Sinead? Fynn?”
“Well, that’s a fine hello to your girlfriend,” Dorian said, stepping into view.
Brendan rushed forward and wrapped her up into a huge embrace, remembering not to squeeze too hard. “What are you doing here?”
“We hadn’t heard from you and… ”
“… and you were worried, I know,” Brendan said with a smirk.
Dorian punched him on the shoulder. “You big jerk. Ken texted us that two gods were after you and your sword and we thought you were in trouble.”
“They took the sword before Rohl and I got here.”
“What’s up?” Rohl said, butting into the conversation from the kitchen.
“A Púca, Brendan? Really?” Dorian asked with a roll of her eyes.
“Excuse me, lass, but Púcas are quite useful in a scrape,” he announced, exuding pride and ego.
“So what’s going on?” Lizzie asked, looking around at all of the beings in the room and the two massive faces who were peeking through the windows.
“Okay, everybody have a seat,” Brendan directed. After they were all seated, Brendan did a quick attendance. Lizzie and Frank sat on a love seat, Dorian was rocking in the fluffy recliner, Fynn, Rohl, Garnash, and Sinead took up the couch, and Tevis, Fergus, and Griffin were hanging out outside the opened door. All of their eyes were on him.
Brendan did the honors of introducing everyone and then he began to sum up what he thought had happened. “It looks like Camulos and some other god got here ahead of us and stole the sword.”
Frank raised his hand. “Camulos?”
“I’ve seen him in a vision or two and the guys is bad news. He’s ruthless and is on Elathan’s side, of course.” He glanced over at Fynn and Sinead before saying his next bit of information, but it was important for everyone to hear so they knew to take Camulos seriously. “Also, he has a way of killing gods.”
“No!” Sinead howled, tears rushing back into her eyes. “She’d dead, I know she’s dead!”
Fynn glared at Brendan for upsetting Sinead again. “Calm down, Sinead. We don’t know that.”
“He’s right. We haven’t found any evidence of that, but I did find something that Bibe left for us,” Brendan added.
“What did you find, Brendan?” Dorian asked, hope evident in her eyes.
“Don’t bother,” Bibe’s voice called from down the hall. “Only you can see and hear me.”
Brendan excused himself from the group and walked back to the room. He stood in front of the mirror and waited for an explanation. “What do you mean?” he finally said.
“The only way to leave this version of my consciousness behind was to attach my energy to your energy signature. That means that only you can see and hear me.” Bibe shrugged and then smiled.
“Great,” Brendan sat back down on the chair and wrapped his fingers behind his head to think. “Now what?”
“Your training begins, of course, but I have to say that I’m not sure if you’re going to be able to do this alone.”
Lizzie cleared her throat from the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt your conversation with your reflection, but why are you talking to yourself?”
“Bibe left a sort of interactive memory in this mirror for me to find in case something happened to her.”
“Uh-huh,” Lizzie replied, looking at the reflective surface.
“And she was just telling me that I was going to need a lot of help.”
“Well, fortunately for you and the Earth, you have all of us.” Lizzie pointed back to where the others were sitting.
“One thing you can’t do is stay here,” Bibe relayed. “Those gods tainted the sanctity of this place. Our methods won’t work here.”
“What’s going on?” Dorian asked, entering the room with Frank and Garnash.
“Seriously. These new people are nice, but they’re a little odd,” Garnash said.
Brendan explained about the image of Bibe and the challenge to relocate the training.
“I’m not sure traveling with that huge mirror is going to work so well,” Frank said, eyeing the mirror suspiciously, trying to spot the goddess.
Bibe hopped up and down. “My image is held in this liquid, Brendan, not the mirror itself. If we had something to hold it, something with magical abilities, then we’d be set.”
Brendan turned back to the others and relayed the message. “Any ideas?”
Dorian’s eyes popped wide with an idea. “How about this?” She pulled out the flask that Oscar had found and stashed in his house and handed it to Brendan.
“Where did she get the Flask of Airmid?” Bibe’s mouth hung open in shock.
“Who cares, will it work?” he asked.
“Aye. Place its brim against my surface,” she prompted. “Wait. To get me out simply pour the liquid into a surface with a lip or a frame, something that can give my liquid form a stable footing.”
Brendan nodded. “It’s time for you to return to Corways, Bibe.” The liquid flowed into the flask, and in a matter of minutes Brendan was looking at his own image in the glass.
“What’s the plan?” Dorian asked, touching his arm.
“That’s what we need to figure out.” He was gaining so much knowledge about Otherworld through his heart visions but still nothing was clear about how to get his father back. And getting him back was going to be important—deep down Brendan knew that. Brendan looked at the others and took a breath to calm his thoughts. He had help, and they were Earth’s best hope.