Chapter 5

The Quest

The creature was long gone before Lizzie could find her voice. “Oh my gosh.”

The reaction was so slow only because the situation was so unbelievable. Should she scream? Should she run? Should she go have a psychological evaluation? Maybe, she thought.

The little people began to crowd around Dorian and lament their dead. Their faces and haunting songs told the story. They were terrified and confused and for some reason they were all looking to Dorian. Were they seeking comfort or direction? Lizzie was surprised that the young girl, even though Dorian was at least as old as Brendan, was what was holding these people together. She was even more surprised when Brendan stepped around her and walked over to where Dorian was and put his hand on her shoulder. The little people backed away quickly with cautious eyes on the stranger.

Lizzie jumped up and followed her big brother into the midst of the group. “Wait up.” The little people backed away a few inches more and didn’t appear to know how to handle the entire crazy situation.

“Dorian,” Brendan said softly.

Dorian slowly lifted her face from the palms of her hands. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were flushed. “What are you doing here?” she asked in a voice that was just above a whisper.

“I…” Brendan struggled to complete the sentence. “I was going to ask you the same question.”

Dorian’s brow knitted closely together as she got to her feet. “I live here.” She wiped the wetness from her cheeks and looked in the direction that the creature had flown.

“What just happened?”

Dorian swiped her nose on her sleeve and said, “A griffin has taken him. That’s what happened.”

“Who?” asked Lizzie.

Dorian walked down the center of town. “My father.”

Lizzie and Brendan exchanged confused looks. Brendan jogged a few steps to catch up to Dorian. “Your father? How?”

Dorian strode ahead, clearly intent in her motion. “It’s really none of your business, and this really isn’t your concern.”

They followed her to the threshold of a little house and she turned on them. “Go back home, Yank.” She gave him a hard stare to make her point clear. “Forget everything you’ve just seen.” She marched into an old cottage leaving the siblings in the street.

“Brendan, I don’t know what it is, but I think we need to help her.” Lizzie held Brendan’s gaze with conviction.

“Liz…” he began, but he allowed his voice to drop off.

“Don’t ask how I know that we need to help her, Brendan. I can’t answer that question. Call it a feeling or destiny or whatever, but I know this is where we were meant to be and this is what we need to do.”

He knew that she believed it. He knew that she meant what she said. He also knew what it meant to be her protector, and from the looks of things it didn’t feel like this was going to be a pleasure walk. He turned from his sister and followed Dorian into the house.

“Maybe I can help,” Brendan said hopefully.

Lizzie chimed in too. “Maybe we can help.”

“You don’t understand what we’re dealing with here.” She shook her head as if she was continuing to talk these two crazy Americans out of trying to help in a hopeless situation.

“But it’s not dangerous for you? Come on, let me…”

Lizzie interrupted her brother. “…us.”

Brendan withheld an argument to squash an outburst from Lizzie. “Let… us help you.”

Dorian ignored him, or at the least pretended that he wasn’t talking and marched past them to an old wooden cabinet. She opened the door with a loud, painful creak and began to root around. She pulled out herbs, a dusty book that probably hadn’t been opened in three hundred years, a wooden soup ladle, and six vials of the brightest fluids that the O’Neal’s had ever seen and laid the items on the table in the center of the room.

“Maybe they can help,” came a voice that was very low to the ground and near the opening of the house.

Dorian never stopped studying the items when she replied, “What can they do, Biddy? They’d just get in the way or get themselves killed.”

“Killed?” Brendan blurted out before he could stop himself.

“See what I mean?” Dorian gestured his way in frustration. “He lacks the courage.”

Brendan wanted to argue, but maybe she was right. Maybe he wasn’t the most courageous guy in the world, but he felt like he could help. He didn’t always volunteer when he probably should have back in the States, but he knew Dorian needed him. He didn’t know why, but Lizzie felt it too, so maybe that made it easier to offer.

The little woman that Dorian referred to as Biddy screwed her eyes up in thought and considered Brendan for a moment. She looked at him longer and deeper than anyone else had ever stared at him before. It was unnerving and made him very uncomfortable.

“No,” she said after what seemed like way too long of a time to stare at a person. “You’re wrong about him. I can feel it.”

Brendan stepped forward and put his hands on the table absently. “I’m willing to help, Dorian.” He found that his index finger was trailing back and forth on the ancient book’s spine.

“Me, too,” Lizzie added enthusiastically.

Brendan turned to his sister. “If this is life or death, Liz, then I can’t let you go.” He continued quickly before she could argue. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“I need to go.” Her expression showed that she wasn’t backing down.

A second small person entered the room. “Sorry, big fellow. The girl has to go.”

“Wait. What?” Brendan said incredulously. “Who are you?”

Biddy, now sitting atop the table spoke up for the newcomer. “This is Rory. He has a gift for seeing the future.”

Rory leapt from the floor to a chair to the spot next to his counterpart. “’Tis true, you know. Long ago I foresaw this day… or at least a shadow of this day.”

Biddy, Brendan, and Lizzie stood and listened intently as Rory told his tale. Dorian listened while she packed the tabled items into a backpack.

“Some three or four years ago a vision was given me,” he began. “I saw the rainbow dissolve above our heads and a horrible shadow overtake the town. I knew that one of us would go missing. I felt a great sadness and loneliness.”

“I bet he’s the life of the party,” whispered Lizzie.

“But, I also saw two shining figures of light and they appeared right after the shadow left us.” Rory looked up hopefully at the siblings. “They joined three from our village and pursued the shadow.”

Brendan thought aloud. “Well, we know what the shadow was and we know who went missing.” He stole a glance at Dorian who kept her eyes on her backpack. The zippers and pockets must have been extremely interesting. “But, what I don’t know is where the griffin took Dorian’s father, or for that matter, why he was taken.”

“The witch,” Dorian said in a weak, frightened voice.

“Morna?” Biddy looked surprised to hear the accusation. “But she has always let us be. Why would she do this?”

“Don’t you see, Bid? She wants my father’s magic.”

Brendan felt he had to interject at the mention of the “M” word. “Time out. Magic?”

Rory laughed. “You’ve just seen the end of a rainbow, a griffin, and a village full of Leprechauns, and you can’t buy into magic?”

“He’s always been a doubter,” said Lizzie.

“I’m not doubting anything,” said Brendan defensively. “This is just a lot to take in.” He turned toward Dorian. “Who is this Morna?”

“She’s a very powerful witch.”

“Why have we never heard of her before?” asked Lizzie. “You’d think someone with crazy power would be on the news a few times.”

“Deary, she’s not out there making herself known,” said Biddy.

Rory nodded. “No, but I believe that Dorian’s right. The witch is making a play at something.”

It was Brendan’s turn to laugh. “You don’t know, Rory? You haven’t foreseen it?”

Rory raised an eyebrow that spoke of his astonishment. “It’s a gift. It’s not like I’m running around getting visions all of the time, now am I?” He chuckled again. “That’d be plain silly.”

“Right. So, what do we do?” Brendan asked Dorian.

Dorian zipped her last pocket shut and threw the bag on her back. “I’m going to the witch’s castle. That’s where she’ll be holding him.” She walked towards the door without indicating that she was taking anyone else along.

“Wait, Dorian.” Rory jumped from the table and sprinted to block the doorway, well at least as best as he could. “You know I get these visions for a reason. We have to follow the instructions. Each of us in this room must go.”

Dorian looked down at the little man and at each person in the room. “If that’s the way it must be.”

Rory held his arms up. “Before we go, I must give warning. I know that sorrow is waiting upon us.”

Lizzie gulped. “What do you mean?”

Rory nodded solemnly. “I‘m afraid that we may each face our mortality and I fear that not all involved will survive.”

“Gee, now I’m pumped about this,” said Brendan sarcastically.

“Do you see?” huffed Dorian.

“Don’t worry, Dorian. This one has great courage. It radiates from him,” smiled Biddy.

Lizzie half-coughed and half-laughed. “How do you know that?”

Biddy shrugged. “Rory can see the future, I can tell a person’s character.”

Lizzie leaned in close to Biddy and in a hushed voice she asked, “What do you see in me?”

“I see a spirit full of love and intelligence,” Biddy said truthfully.

Now it was Brendan’s turn to half-cough and half-laugh. “You haven’t seen her report card then.”

“Shut up,” protested Lizzie.

Dorian moved toward the door and spared a single glance back at the other four. “Come now. We’re wasting time.”

Brendan and Rory followed Dorian out the door and Lizzie and Biddy took the rear.

Lizzie smiled down at the tiny woman. “I knew I liked you, Biddy.”

…

Thunder clapped and lightning flashed all around a big stone castle in the middle of a dark forest in Scotland. Creepy and sinister it sat, alone and sheltered from any passersby. The stories and myths that surrounded the Black Forest, as it became known, were the things of legend. Hellish tales of torture and nightmares, most of which weren’t true, served to keep the old Scottish castle isolated and undisturbed. The mistress of the castle preferred it that way.

An unnatural silhouette soared among the storm clouds in a direct path to Morna’s castle. Rain pelted the little man in the griffin’s clutches. He shielded his eyes with his free hand since his other arm was bound tightly to his body in the strong grasp of the claw. Looking in the distance his eyes grew large as a flash of lightning backlit the ominous castle like a bad Frankenstein movie.

The griffin glided smoothly into the castle’s tower and landed gracefully on the cold stone floor, dropping water on the floor and on top of the unwilling captive. Once the griffin had settled itself and the landing was complete, it tossed the little Leprechaun across the hard floor. The prisoner skidded and rolled until he landed at the feet of the mistress of the castle.

He looked up at the witch through foggy eyes and blinked out the moisture. “Morna?”

“Welcome to my humble home, Duncan.” Morna turned away from the king of the Leprechauns and added, “I hope you had a pleasant flight.”

She looked at a red-eyed slave who stood swaying in the corner and nodded slightly. He quickly walked over and snatched the diminutive monarch by the scruff of his coat.

Duncan struggled against the slave’s hold to no avail. He looked over at Morna with questioning eyes.

“What do you hope to gain, witch?”

“Only your allegiance and all of you power,” she laughed mirthlessly.

Duncan scoffed. “How do you intend to strip me of my power, Morna? The means no longer exists.”

Morna smirked at the little man and exposed the hilt of a dagger to him. “Look familiar?” she said pulling the blade an inch or two from its sheath revealing the smooth black blade.

“That’s not possible,” whispered the king.

Morna hid the dagger once more and tilted her head at her guest. “Pity you don’t have any of the rainbow’s magic handy, eh?” Morna grinned cruelly. “I bet you could use a shot of that dust now.”

Duncan didn’t respond verbally. His hands glowed again and he sent a beam of orange energy at Morna. The witch casually deflected the magic and exhaled a black mist that enveloped the king. He fought against its effects, but his orange spark faded and then extinguished. He hung helplessly in the slave’s thick hand as hope seemed to fade out of his mind.

Morna turned her gaze to the guard. “Show our guest to his new room.”

The slave exited the tower at her command and left Morna alone with her griffin. She gently rubbed its beak as the storm raged on to her delight.