Arawn awoke with a start at the sound of the most pitiful moan that he had ever heard. The sound was almost comical to him since it sounded like a herd of cows that he once owned back on Earth. He blinked his eyes over and over again trying to clear his vision enough to see who was making that awful noise, but he found that he was the only one in the cell. He hurt all over—especially in his midsection—and made a weak effort to sit up. He got as far as his elbows before he fell face-first back onto the hard stone floor. A fit of coughing slammed his injured abdomen and caused him to vomit. He barely managed to roll his head away from the pool of sickness, though he wasn’t sure his hair was entirely vomit-free.
He moaned again and laid his head back on the cool stone and coughed again, bubbles forming on his lips. He closed his eyes for a long time, falling in and out of consciousness. It must have been hours or perhaps days later when he heard someone shuffling around in his prison cell.
“Who?” Arawn managed to say, though it was more like a stunted whisper.
There was no reply, only firm hands that gripped him under his armpits and lifted him onto a stone bench. His head wobbled and turned; he saw that a human was standing over him with a wet rag and a bowl of water.
“Relax, friend,” the human said, patting the rag against Arawn’s forehead. “My name is Oscar. I’ll take care of you.”
…
The Leprechauns and Gnomes in Corways were freaking out, but Brendan couldn’t blame them. If he had just watched two giants step through the obsidian megaliths in Corways after what had happened the last time the Magogs appeared, he probably would have had a conniption fit as well. Thankfully, Dorian calmed them down and clarified Tevis’s and Fergus’s reasons for being in Corways.
Rory laughed nervously as he and Biddy joined the group that just arrived. “Sorry about that, fellas. I hope you can understand our confusion.”
Tevis was still rubbing his freshly darted nose. He eyed Biddy warily. “No problem.”
Biddy shrugged. “Really, Tevis, I’m sorry.”
Garnash led the giants and Rohl away to the Gnome camp within Corways. Frank and Lizzie followed Dorian through the village, checking on the residents and showing a united front of calm and control. That left Brendan, Sinead, and Fynn to debrief Rory and Biddy.
“So what’s with the entourage, Brendan?” Rory asked with a grin.
“Bibe made it clear to me that I can’t do this alone,” he answered, gesturing towards the large group of friends that he had gathered. “So, I found some more volunteers.”
“Where is Bibe?” Biddy asked, looking around, trying to pinpoint the goddess.
Brendan held up the Flask of Airmid for them to see. “Unfortunately the real Bibe is missing, but she was smart enough to leave a version of herself to help us.”
“Goddess of wisdom,” Sinead said proudly. “I do hope she’s fine.”
Fynn looked up at her with doleful eyes. “Don’t worry, dear, Bibe is a tough old bird; she’ll be fine.”
“We’ll do all we can to find her.” Brendan wanted to believe his own words. He wanted to have faith in his ability to save her or locate her, but he also knew whom he was dealing with in Camulos. The guy was a god killer, Brendan had already seen that. What that meant for Bibe was something that he didn’t want to think about.
“I’m a bit confused,” admitted Biddy.
“Right, what do you mean by a version of herself?” Rory agreed.
Brendan explained the situation to his friends, even the fact that he was the only one who could see her.
“So, what’s the plan?” Rory wanted to know.
“After Dorian and the others make their rounds, we’re going to find out.” Brendan looked down at the flask. “Hopefully she’s thought of something by now.”
…
“What is a human doing in Otherworld?” Arawn asked, his words stretched by his gasping and haggard breathing.
“Otherworld?” Oscar asked. “You must be hallucinating, buddy. Otherworld is just a myth.” Wasn’t it? That little voice in his head told him it was, but why would a stranger bring up something so random?
Arawn began to laugh, but the fiery pain that surged into his midsection cut it short so his laugh came out as a single Ha! “Myth? You must be in a nightmare, friend.”
The comment caught Oscar off guard. He looked around the room and realized for the first time that he was in a cell, although it wasn’t like any prison he had seen before. This cell was spacious with trilithons encompassing the area. Each of the stones was carved with intricate symbols, some he recognized and some he did not. The odd thing was how they seemed to light up randomly in blue and golden light. The whole scene reminded him of something, but he couldn’t remember what.
“How did you get in here?” Arawn asked.
Oscar shook his head. “I’m not sure, and to be honest about it, I have no idea who you are or where on Earth we are.”
“I am Arawn, and we’re not on Earth. We are in a prison in Tech Duinn.”
“Tech Duinn?” Oscar repeated with a scoff. “The Realm of the Dead? How does that make any sense, Arawn?”
Arawn shrugged and closed his eyes. His whole body felt heavy, and his head was cloudy. It was hard to think and even harder not to think. Either way a headache threatened to pop his eyes from their sockets.
“That’s good, Arawn. Rest up. Build your strength back,” encouraged Oscar, dabbing at the large man’s forehead with the cloth.
“You’re mistaken,” Camulos said, entering the prison from behind Oscar. “There is no rest for the weary.”
Arawn opened his eyes and saw Camulos toss Oscar across the room. The human skidded right into Argona’s clutches where she tossed him over her shoulder. She stood for just a moment, lingering inside the cell with her eyes locked on the Celtic warrior before she exited with Oscar in hand.
“Where are you taking him?” Arawn demanded.
“I wouldn’t concern myself with the human, Arawn,” Camulos said, his face turning over with an evil expression. “You and I need to have a conversation, old friend.”
The last thing Oscar remembered before blacking out was the cries of agony that resounded from Arawn’s prison. The screams followed Oscar into the darkness.
…
“How are you holding up, Lizzie?” Frank said with a squeeze of her shoulders.
She smiled meekly and put her hand on his. They had been waiting on Dorian, Brendan, and the others to join them at Dorian’s house. After a quick run-through of the village to visit with the Leprechauns and Gnomes, the young couple stole a few private moments to walk and chat. There was so little time anymore to just hang out like normal teens, so they were happy to have even the briefest moment of normalcy. Eventually their walk led them to Dorian’s since they figured that’s where everyone would gather.
“I don’t know,” she finally said. “I miss Dad. I just want him back, but I don’t know if he’s even alive.”
Frank shook his head. “You can’t think like that. You have to believe he’s out there right now, hanging on, waiting on us to rescue him. He’s not giving up, so you better not either.”
She wanted to reply, but it was more likely that tears would fall if she did. Thankfully, the others began to arrive.
Brendan, Dorian, Rory, and Biddy walked in and took their places around the table. It appeared to Lizzie that everyone always went to the same spots to sit or stand. Creatures of habit, she noted.
“Don’t worry, I’m here. We can begin preparing for the end of the world,” Rohl announced, entering just ahead of Garnash, Sinead, and Fynn.
“Oh, can it, Rohl!” Sinead ordered. “I want to hear what the plan is.”
Brendan nodded and asked Dorian if she had a pan with edges. She fetched one from the cupboard and placed it on the table. Brendan poured the glossy liquid from the Flask of Airmid into the pan and waited.
“Liquid mirror?” Rory asked. “I’m not getting it.”
Biddy poked him in the side. “Shhh! Let the man work, dear.”
“Hopefully, Bibe’s image will appear here and then we can figure things out,” Brendan said.
“But what if she doesn’t?” Fynn asked, his face tense with anxiety.
“Tell Fynn to shut it. I’m here.” Bibe’s image was blurry and struggled to settle into a clear picture in the unorthodox frame. “Does the nitwit think it’s easy to swim around in that bottle and then pop right out and look presentable?”
Brendan stared down at her and shrugged.
“Well, ask him!” Bibe demanded.
“Look, let’s just get right to the task at hand, Bibe. What’s our plan?”
Brendan looked up and caught the odd looks on all of their faces. “She’s there, but I’m the only one who can hear or see her, remember. She, on the other hand, can hear and see all of us.”
“Header,” Rohl chirped from behind the back of his hand.
“No, wait,” Sinead said as she leaned forward to examine the silvery liquid in the pan. “I’ve never seen it done quite to this scale, but there were times that I’d walk in the kitchen and see her face in the shine of the spoons or a glass, always barking some order at me to do this or that.”
“Basically a recorded message?” Lizzie offered.
“Sort of,” Brendan replied. “Only I’m thinking of it like A.I.”
“A.I.?” Rory asked.
“Artificial Intelligence, like robots or computer programs,” Frank offered.
“So I guess all humans are headers!” Rohl said.
“Why is he here?” Garnash asked. “If all he’s going to do is crack jokes, then he should leave.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Rohl said, holding his hands up like an innocent Púca. “Sorry for all of the wisecracks, but I’m here because I can be a big help.”
“I doubt that,” Garnash snipped.
“Focus,” Brendan demanded.
“Good, Brendan,” encouraged Bibe. “Enough of this hogwash; we need to find a new location to train, one that is a proven haven for magicks.”
Brendan relayed what Bibe had said. “Can anyone think of a place like that?”
“What are magical places that anyone’s been to?” Dorian added.
“Disney Wor… sorry,” Rohl said before finishing his joke.
“Let’s take stock of where we’ve been and what we’ve done,” Brendan suggested.
“Corways,” Dorian said. “Obviously it has been and continues to be a safe haven for magicks.”
“If we think like that, then we could list Flumshire and the Magog’s village as well,” Garnash added.
“Morna’s castle,” Lizzie said.
Brendan, Dorian, Rory, and Biddy all looked at her with knowing eyes. That was a trying time that would bind them together for the rest of their lives.
“Right, all of those places are as such, but none of them offers the connection to Otherworld that we’re going to need,” Bibe pointed out.
“She said that the location would need to have a connection to Otherworld.” Brendan looked around at the others for some suggestions.
Lizzie stood up with excitement on her face, but it quickly faded as she looked at her big brother. “I think I know a place, but you’re not going to like it.”
“Where?” Brendan prompted, but before she answered he already knew what she was going to say.
Lizzie read his expression. “Can you think of a better place to start?”
“Can we stop being so cryptic for a moment? What are you talking about?” Fynn wanted to know.
“We’ve got to go back to the Wampanoag site at Sam’s Creek,” Lizzie said, turning to face the others. “That was where our last stand against Elathan was. That’s where we let him open up the tether to Otherworld and take our father away from us.”
“Correction, Liz,” Brendan said, drawing everyone’s eyes to him. “That was where we took our first stand, and you can bet that it won’t be our last.”
…
Argona had placed the Seeker down on a thin cushion near a wall in the main chamber. That was the most action the room had seen in hours. Elathan was content to meditate, reaching his mind out fruitlessly for Caoranach while Lir, Tannus, and Conchar sat or stood in silence not wanting to interrupt their contemptuous master’s concentration. Argona, on the other hand, was growing restless.
She slipped away down the long corridor that lead back to Arawn’s prison cell. She heard strike after strike being levied on Arawn by Camulos as she approached.
“Where is Caoranach?” Camulos shouted.
Crack!
Bam!
Smack!
“Where is the mother of demons?”
Slap!
Bang!
Thwack!
Argona peered out from behind the first set of trilithons and looked in on Camulos. Sweat dripped from the god’s body, drenching his clothing and causing his hair to glisten. Arawn was sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the bench, his hands and feet bound. He was bloodied and bruised and looked too weak to be conscious, but somehow he was.
Camulos reared back and drove his gloved fist into the side of the Celtic warrior’s head, finally knocking him over. Camulos reached up and ran his hand through his hair to clear his vision. He was breathing hard, but he was seething at Arawn’s refusal to talk.
“What keeps you going Arawn?” Camulos said in a soft, almost comforting voice. “This can all be over. Tell me what I want to know and I will let your suffering end.” He produced a few blue crystals in a clear glass vial and clanged them together.
Arawn closed his eyes for a moment, appearing like he was going to slip away into death’s embrace—if that was still even possible for him since he was a demigod—but a deep breath revitalized him slightly.
“Is it her?” Camulos asked. “Does your love for Argona spur you on, Arawn?”
Argona found herself listening more intently than she would have imagined. She hated Arawn. He had betrayed her all those years ago and then held her in a prison for his puppet master. She had no feelings for him, yet a nervousness about his possible response fluttered around in her gut.
“Because if that’s it, then you are a fool. She left you millennia ago, leaving you to carrly all that responsibility on your capable shoulders.” Camulos knelt down to get closer to eye level with the beaten demigod. “She broke your heart and yet here you are pining for her still. Pathetic.”
“You don’t understand love, Camulos,” Arawn said feebly. “Your heart is too black for that.”
“I understand that love is for the weak, an understanding that you once shared.” Camulos began walking toward the barrier, but before he reached it he turned around. “I find it funny that all the torture in the world affects you less than your miserable, broken heart. Take the human’s advice and get your rest. I want you well for a fresh round or torture in the morning.”
Argona ducked back into a shadow and went unnoticed by Camulos as he stomped away, trying to shake the soreness from his hands. She waited until the tapping of his boot heels had faded away before she stepped out into the light in the hallway.
She was numb. In a matter of moments and one hushed confession, she found her world flipped upside-down. But it shouldn’t matter, should it? After all, she hated Arawn—didn’t she?
…
Elathan’s eyes snapped open and he looked at the others in the chamber. A dim sneer curled his lips, but he said nothing. Information was always important and could mean the difference between victory and defeat.
Argona entered the chamber, flustered, but the golden god remained placid. He knew her secrets—her deepest, darkest, thoughts—and that gave him all the power. Even she didn’t really know what her feelings were telling her, but Elathan did. Argona was his servant, willing or not.
…
The sweating and the moaning had stopped earlier in the day and that worried Toren. Nuada’s breathing was shallow, but his tremors had, thankfully, ceased. The silver god was nonresponsive, but Toren really had no idea what that meant to a god, to someone who was supposed to be immortal.
The ghostly O’Neal couldn’t do much more than talk and sing old Irish songs that his mother used to sing to him as a boy. He hoped the sound of someone’s voice was enough to keep Nuada going. Toren looked down at his friend who was lying on his back and noticed that his skin was pale and almost as transparent as his own spirit form.
“Where is your mind, old friend?” Toren lamented.
…
Brendan was glad the others had left Dorian’s place, even if it was momentarily since he and Dorian hadn’t had much time to themselves recently. He was sure she felt the same since she closed the door to her house and smiled widely at him.
She took a deep breath. “Are you ready for this?”
Brendan raised a curious eyebrow and smirked. “This?”
She gave him a cross look. “Training with all of us around and then… well, who knows from there. We really don’t have a way to get to Otherworld, so that means we are probably going to have to wait for Elathan to come back to us and have it out here on Earth.”
“That’s not ideal, obviously, since I’m assuming that he will be coming back at us with full force accompanied by a ton of ugly creatures that will love nothing more than to eat everybody,” Brendan said. “No, we have to do better than that.”
Dorian crossed the room and pulled into his chest. They stood in silence for a moment, enjoying the embrace. He closed his eyes and took the opportunity to breathe. There were so many scents in the room, from the candle burning on the table, to the fresh cut flowers that Brendan had collect for Dorian the other day, to the scent of her hair.
In an instant, the fresh, lovely smells faded and the stench of brimstone became overpowering. He opened his eyes and saw that he was no longer holding his girlfriend in Corways but was instead at the scene of a nasty, burning battlefield. Brendan felt that he was still on Earth, but it was hard to say for sure.
The scene was one of absolute chaos. Large dragons zipped across the sky scorching the earth with intense streams of fire, making the air sizzle in the high temperatures. Brendan could see the resemblance to the niseags, but the longer snouts and bulkier bodies made them stand apart—that and the fact that the niseags fired extreme cold whereas the dragons fired extreme heat. The two creatures were cousins, perhaps, but not siblings.
There were other magicks engaged in battle, but Brendan was having a hard time discerning who was on what side and why they were fighting in the first place. Brendan wasn’t sure how he recognized some of the magicks that he hadn’t encountered yet, but he knew them instinctually. Redcap Goblins battling a group of Sidhes were easily identifiable with their large razor-filled mouths and greenish skin. Their signature red caps got their color when dipped in the blood of the goblins’ victims. The Redcaps tried to slash the Sidhes with their short duel-headed blades or their metal-spiked clubs, but the Sidhes were quick and nimbly avoided the deadly blows.
The low end of the hill found Leprechauns and Gnomes fighting against the bronze-skinned Brags and the fierce, hideous Bendiths. The Brags reminded Brendan somewhat of Rohl, but there was a sinister side to these creatures. Many of them transformed into horses or donkeys and tried to stomp the smaller foes. The Bendiths had a reputation for being nasty, vile, bloodthirsty tramps with a propensity for the blood of children, stealing them away while they slept and carrying them on their leathery wings. Irish folktales were full of such creatures, and Brendan could see why people were afraid of them.
A massive, red-scaled dragon swooped in from the north and let loose a hail of fire, igniting the trees and scattering a large group of Leprechauns, Gnomes, Brags, and Bendiths.
“Burn them! Burn them all!” ordered a large figure flapping his wings overhead, hovering where he pleased.
“Enough, Dewi!” boomed a voice from the south, emerging from the flash of a megalith off in the distance. “Stop this madness, or I will.”
Brendan looked up into the sky and spotted three griffins soaring towards the melee with three riders upon their backs. Nuada was flying point with Arawn and a woman who Brendan had never seen before flanking him on either side. He only recognized the silver god by the fact that he couldn’t see his face, just like in the vision with Lir.
“You bring a human and a flaky goddess as your army to face me, the god of dragons?” Dewi asked in disbelief. “Elathan was right to think you mad, Nuada.”
Dewi unleashed a stream of fire from his own mouth, but Nuada deflected it with ease with a simple wave of his hand. The god of dragon’s expression betrayed his surprise.
“You are mistaken to think I need help, dragon.”
Nuada hopped from the griffin’s muscled back and dove straight for Dewi. Dewi, to his credit, didn’t shy away from contact and pushed off of the air, sending his body upward to meet the silver god.
That was a mistake.
Nuada slammed into him with explosive force and smashed him straight into the ground. He landed a few feet away with a bend of the knees and reached out, grabbing the dragon god by the face and shoulder and forcing him to his feet. Nuada lifted Dewi over his head and slammed him straight into the ground. Dirt and grass exploded from the impact, leaving a divot for Dewi to lie in.
High overhead, Arawn and the woman used his sword and her electrified whip to dispatch the dragons directly from the sky. The Leprechauns, Sidhes, and Gnomes were turning the tide against the Redcaps, Brags, and Bendiths. Nuada looked up with great pride.
“Your vermin are dying due to your arrogance, Dewi, and your fool-hearted venture has led to your own demise.” Nuada pulled out his sword crackling with silver energy.
“No, Lord Nuada,” Dewi said, struggling to get to his knees. “I beg you for mercy.”
The silver god hesitated and then he reached out telepathically and hoisted Dewi into the air. “You are banned from returning to Earth, Dewi—you and your favored. Go back to Otherworld, but be warned that if you set foot on Earth again, you will burn.”
“Thank… ” Dewi began to say before he and his small army of Redcaps, Brags, and Bendiths were sent into the tether and away from Earth.
The two griffins landed next to the silver god, and the riders dismounted. They were out of breath, but both were in phenomenal shape.
“Well done, Nuada,” Arawn said.
“I am grateful to your allegiance, Arawn. And yours as well, Argona.” Nuada bowed respectfully.
“It will be good to return to Otherworld,” she replied.
“Your return will have to wait,” Nuada stated.
“Oh?” Arawn asked.
“I have learned of a vile creature that Elathan has unleashed upon the Earth, and I need the two of you to find and destroy it.”
“And what if we can’t destroy it?” Argona asked.
Nuada pulled out a pouch and loosened the drawstring. He poured the contents into his palm. Brendan walked forward and peeked into Nuada’s hand. A few small nuggets of silver bounced around until they finally settled into their places.
“Then trap the creature and bury it deep where no one will ever find it.”
Arawn took the pouch and placed it in a satchel that hung around his shoulders. “What sort of creature is this?”
Nuada was silent for a moment, measuring his words carefully. “She is a serpent-like monster the old gods call Caoranach.” Neither Argona nor Arawn showed any recognition of the name. “When I was a young god, I was told stories of an ancient evil that was the mother of all demons. They frightened me, of course, but I grew up assuming the stories to be just that, stories. It looks like I was wrong.”
Nuada stepped past his chosen warriors and remounted his griffin. “Good luck to you.”
The large silver-coated griffin pushed off of the ground, and Nuada began soaring back towards the megaliths, only to pause a moment when Argona called out to him.
“How will we know where to find her?” she asked.
“Wherever there is agony, suffering, and death, Argona, that is where you will find Caoranach. That is where you should look first.”
Brendan could hear the regret in the silver god’s voice. Brendan assumed that Nuada was remorseful that Elathan had ever gotten involved in Earth, and that he allowed it. He recognized the humanity in the god’s voice and that brought Brendan comfort.
Nuada sped away and disappeared in a flash, destined for Otherworld. Argona and Arawn turned back to face each other.
“Are you afraid of Caoranach?” she asked the Celtic warrior.
He reached down and took her hands. “My heart only fears losing you, Argona. That is the way it will always be.”
Just as the couple began to kiss, the world around Brendan blanked out of existence, leaving him in pure darkness. For a moment, he was afraid that it would last forever and he would be stuck in the nether, but a small point of light appeared in the distance. He wanted to walk towards it, but his body was locked. All he could do was wait as the light drew closer to him, expanding in size as it came. Soon enough the light shot past him and swallowed his consciousness, bringing him back to Dorian’s arms.
“Whoa,” he said, realizing he was able to speak to her.
Dorian sighed and pulled back a little to look him in the eye. “Vision?”
He nodded. “If this vision is true, then Elathan has even more powerful allies on his side than I thought.”
“We know about Camulos and his god friend, Conchar, and the Banshees, but who else?”
Brendan explained about Dewi and his dragons, Redcaps, Brags, and Bendiths, and then he got to the truly terrifying part. “In this vision, Nuada assigned Arawn and someone named Argona to the scary task of either killing or trapping a being named Caoranach.”
“Caoranach?”
Brendan shrugged and threw his hands up. “All I know is Nuada said that he was told stories about this Caoranach and it frightened even him. He called her the mother of demons.”
“What happened to her?” Dorian asked.
Brendan shrugged. “I don’t know. Elathan could already have her by his side or maybe Arawn and Argona killed her years ago. We don’t really have a way of knowing yet.”
“It’s alright, Brendan,” Dorian said, taking his face in her hands. She could feel the tension mounting in him as if he were literally holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. “One thing at a time, hon. Right now we’re on step one, and we have a million steps in between us and the end of this.”
“Do you think we can win?” He looked her directly in the eye, begging for truth and lies at the same time.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “No matter what happens, we do this together right up to the end. I promise you that.”