Chapter 16

Specters and Mist

Duncan heard the heel tap of boots walk across the floor. He assumed it was Dullahan returning to the tower, but he couldn’t be certain. What he did know was that he was in a heap of trouble. He knew he was to his breaking point and the witch was about to get what she wanted.

How did it come to this? How did he let this happen? His thoughts dwelled on his beautiful daughter and the others in his clan that were counting on him. He was about to let them down.

“What is it Dullahan? Why the long face?” cackled Morna, giddy at the prospect of all the magic she was about to capture.

“The slaves have been destroyed, Mistress,” Dullahan replied. “They are on their way?”

Morna strolled over to Duncan’s cage and smiled. “It won’t matter. The Leprechauns will be mine before they arrive.”

“And if they are not?”

Morna shrugged. “Then you can kill them.”

…

Lizzie and Rory were in the rear of the pack as Dorian and Brendan led the crusade. Biddy flew above them scouting out the path ahead.

They had emerged from the caverns after only a brief time following the battle with the slaves and after Gorgoch had vanished. Brendan wasn’t sure if the ghost was coming back or not, but he couldn’t worry about that now. He knew that there was a good chance that the Leprechauns who were on his side stood a real chance of jumping ship. Then that would be a huge problem.

“So, tell me about your visions?”

Dorian’s question shook him out of his thoughts. He told her about the dream he’d had and about what he had seen in the cave. Reliving the visions made him shudder. Why had he been able to have visions? What made him special? Or maybe a better questions was what made him cursed?

“Have you ever had a vision before that dream?”

Brendan thought back and he realized that he had. He just didn’t recognize it for what it was. He had dreamed about his father before he had a car crash and his mother before she had died. He had seen his grandpa’s image from Vietnam even though he had never even met the man before. Little scenes like that had always been with him, only he just explained them away—like saying that he saw these things because he was tired or had a good imagination. Maybe it was something he ate or a conversation that sparked the thought? It wasn’t until his Celtic adventure that he realized that some supernatural ability was even a viable explanation to his visions. What a vacation it had turned out to be.

“I’m glad you came with me, Brendan,” Dorian said. “I know that I doubted you at the beginning, but you have not only held your own—you’ve exceeded expectations.”

Brendan smiled and glanced over at her. She looked tired and feverish. Her skin was pale and she was sweating, despite the chill in the forest. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she lied. “Let’s just get my father back.”

“We will. I promise you.” Brendan reached down and took her hand in his and they walked through the forest. The trees moved out of their way and Brendan knew it was because of him. He couldn’t explain it, but he was feeling stronger, more powerful.

As the forest moved aside, Morna’s castle came into view. Brendan steeled his nerves, determined to see it through to the end.

…

Morna saw the group with her own eyes for the first time when they entered the clearing. They had moved through her Black Forest much faster than she had anticipated. The trees should have been doing more to slow them, but that was only a minor concern. She waved her hand through the air and the little bit of water that hung about began to shimmer. An image flashed to life. It was fuzzy at first, but soon enough she could see Duncan’s daughter and her friends. She moved the image over so the Leprechaun King could see it as well.

“There she is, Duncan,” laughed the witch. “Your precious daughter has arrived to save you.”

Duncan’s eyelids were heavy and he struggled to open them. He managed to peek through his eyelashes and see the image. The group he saw looked exhausted and frail. How much had they been through on his account? What horrors had they faced?

And then he saw his daughter and his spirit lifted. His eyes opened fully and he struggled to watch. She was holding the hand of a young man that he didn’t recognize and she was apparently feeling the affects of Morna’s attack on Leprechaun magic. As heartened as he was to see her, he was equally sad to see her suffer.

“Does she look well to you, Duncan?” Morna feigned concern. “The poor dear. Maybe you should help her. You can end her suffering by giving into me.”

“How would that help her?” Duncan coughed and wheezed the words out. He wouldn’t be able to say anything else for a long time.

“If you cease this senseless resistance, then I will spare your daughter from my control.” Morna gave her best smile. “The others in your clan will be mine, but your precious Dorian will be free.”

She looked at the little, old Leprechaun to read his response. “What do you say, old friend?”

Duncan tilted his head to see the image again. He reached out for her and the vapor dispersed taking the image away.

“Just something to think about, but don’t take too long. The offer won’t stand.”

…

Gorgoch hovered in the air around the castle. He chose to leave the others because he thought he had a better chance of ending this madness faster if he was on his own. Destroying the Ruas only took a small amount of energy. He would have to admit that he froze at first. Seeing them again had surprised him, but unlike last time he could do something about it. Vaporizing the undead had given him the perfect cover to leave the group and hunt down Morna. Someone had to stop her. He had wanted to all those years ago and it looked like fate was giving him a second chance.

…

The fog was heavy in the air around the tower. Morna and Dullahan stood near the balcony in silence. The headless demon knew not to speak to the witch unless he was given permission. She was his master. It was she that allowed him to roam the Earth in search of souls. It would remain that way until the witch died or passed ownership on to a new master. He knew his role and he performed his job well.

There was a glint of power in Morna’s eyes that was unmistakable. It was greed and ambition. She was going to change the world to her liking and there was nothing that was going to be done about it. She may have looked youthful on the outside, but she had the benefit of centuries of experience. Also, she was a pupil of his former master, Conchar. She knew what she was doing, and it wasn’t going to be pretty for the rest of the world.

It surprised Dullahan to see his master’s face go from one of satisfied contemplation to one of terror. She clutched at her throat and struggled for a gasp of breath. Her eyes started to bulge as she was lifted into the air and slammed against the far wall with enough force to crack the stone. Dullahan pulled out his hatchet and searched the tower for the assailant, but there was none to be found.

Morna was raked up the wall and smashed into the ceiling. She sprawled against the ceiling and then tumbled through the air until she crashed into the ground. Morna rolled to her feet and thrust her arms out to the sides. A red pulse left her and domed out around the tower. A layer of fog rode the dome and was pinned against the wall. Morna twirled her arm around, and the red pulse raced around the room collecting the fog in a dizzying swirl. The red pulse collected itself at the pinnacle of the tower and shot straight down for the floor. When it hit, a ghostly mass was left unmoving as the red pulse sparked and waved like electrodes.

“A valiant effort, Gorgoch,” croaked Morna to the still mass on the stone floor at her feet. “Pity you failed so miserably and your friends are going to either end up as my slaves or suffer a horrible, agonizing death.”

The red magic was heavy upon Gorgoch and trapped him despite his best effort to free himself. “I won’t let you hurt them!” he declared defiantly.

“Oh, I’m not going to hurt them. You are!”

Morna clenched her fist at Gorgoch and the red magic squeezed in on its prisoner. He screamed at the pain. It was real and cut powerfully at his exposed soul. The red magic absorbed into his body and left him smoking and paralyzed.

“Arise, Gorgoch,” Morna commanded. At once Gorgoch rose to an upright position. His eyes were glazed over red, and he stood patiently awaiting his master’s desire. “Go and kill your new friends.”

Gorgoch faded into smoke and all that could be seen in the vapor were his new red eyes. When they, too, vanished, Morna looked over at Duncan and saw victory was close at hand.

…

“There’s the castle. So, how do we get in?” asked Rory.

The structure was mountainous and imposing against the stormy sky. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed just as it should in any scary circumstance. The path led the group to a clearing and to a large misty moat of black water. The drawbridge was up and there was no foreseeable way in.

“Maybe we should knock?” joked Lizzie. “What do you think, Brendan?”

…

The world around him faded out and he was left alone in a white nothingness. He called out for the others, but his echo was the only voice that answered him. He had never felt that alone before. Fear was creeping in on him.

Fear was a dangerous emotion.

He was standing, but he wasn’t sure what he was standing on. He couldn’t see a surface or a ground. There was no wind and no other stimuli to be processed. Panic was beginning to set in.

“Be calm,” commanded a voice.

Instantly, Brendan was overcome with a sense of ease. His breathing slowed and a serenity that should have never been thought of came to him.

“Who’s there?” he asked the white nothing.

“Worry not about me, Brendan,” commanded the voice. “Your friends are in great peril.”

“I already know that,” he retorted. He thought about the venom in his reply and continued with more reverence. “I don’t know how I can help them.”

“You will know when the time is right.”

“But what if we are already too late?” he asked.

“There is no such thing,” boomed the voice.

Brendan hung his head in confusion and sadness. “I…” his voice faltered.

“When all is lost remember this calm, and then you will realize what has been promised you and your clan.”

Brendan looked up, and in a flash he realized that he was still standing in front of Morna’s castle and beside his group.

…

“Did you hear me?” Lizzie asked again. “How do we get in?”

“Silence!” yelled Rory as he jumped from Lizzie’s shoulder. “Something is here!”

“What’s here?” Dorian asked hurriedly.

“I don’t know, but it’s evil.” Rory stalked around with his bow at the ready.

The others braced for combat as well. Lizzie and Dorian stood back to back and inspected the landscape. Biddy hovered above them a helicopter, eagle eyes on full watch.

Brendan was on the look out but the flash vision or visit or whatever it was called weighed on his mind and his attention. What had the voice meant? He was having a hard time not thinking that he had just imagined the voice. People with some forms of dementia heard voices. Maybe that’s what he had? For all he knew, he could be in a padded room right now living out some fantasy.

The mist over the black water of the moat began to bellow out at that point looking a lot like a witch’s cauldron. The only thing missing was the howl of a wolf in the distance, but Brendan had no doubt that, too, would happen soon.

Rory prowled near the moat and was absolutely taken off guard when the water reached out and snatched him up like a frog snagging a dopey fly. The little guy was flung straight into the side of the castle and crashed down onto a large rock that barely protruded out of the surface of the water.

“Rory!” screamed Biddy. “I’m coming!”

Biddy dove down to rescue her friend when the mist belched out a bubble and trapped the flying Leprechaun. It floated lazily in the wind and landed somewhere in the distant trees.

“What’s going on, Dorian?” screamed Brendan.

“I don’t know.” She had pulled away from Lizzie and took a few steps back. She slammed into an invisible object and was knocked to the ground. She turned her head in time to see two red eyes appear out of the mist. Her jaw fell open in surprise when Gorgoch solidified before her eyes.

“Artie!” screeched Dorian.

“Death seeks you, Dorian, and I aim to deliver you.” Gorgoch opened his mouth and a stream of black mist poured out and surrounded her.

Dorian’s hands glowed with her power and she lashed out against the mist. It evaded her touch all the while squeezing in on her.

“Leave her alone!” shouted Lizzie as she swatted at Gorgoch with her staff. The stick passed through him, though, and she lost her balance. Gorgoch made his arm solid and swatted her twenty feet away. She crashed to the ground and rolled. She didn’t move when her rolling ended.

“You son of a—” Brendan slashed down with his sword and chopped off the solid arm. It fell away and turned to black mist when it hit the ground. Instantly, a new arm reformed itself out of Gorgoch’s shoulder, only this time it carried a sword as well.

“Fool,” chastised the spirit. “You have already lost.”

Gorgoch lashed out with his sword, and Brendan easily countered and parried in return. They exchanged attacks with neither gaining an advantage.

“After I kill you, boy, I will finish off your sister and your girlfriend.” Gorgoch’s red eyes were like fire and his white glow had been overrun with a red pulsation.

“Come on, Artie,” pleaded Brendan. “We’re your friends.”

“Wrong. My only friend is death. I would like to introduce you.”

Gorgoch struck high and Brendan easily blocked the blow. He then spun and dipped even lower only to bring his blade up into the center of the spirit’s chest. To his surprise the blade speared the ghost like any other man. Gorgoch’s surprised face told Brendan that he had found his mark.

Gorgoch’s arm returned to mist, but his body remained lodged on the end of Brendan’s blade. The black mist around Dorian vanished in the wind and she got to her feet and stumbled to Brendan’s side.

Gorgoch opened his mouth to speak, but it was obvious that they weren’t his words. “Fools! You are too late. Duncan’s power will be my own and then I will be unstoppable!”

Dorian had tears reach her eyes. “Let my father go!”

Morna looked through a patch of mist, seeing through Gorgoch’s eyes. She looked out at the American and the princess.

“Little girl, what makes you think that you can command me?”

“You could have lived and served in my new world, as meager as that existence would have been, but I have made your protector your destroyer,” Gorgoch continued the speech for his master.

The spirit man’s eyes assumed a sharper and bloodier red. Though he was still impaled on Brendan’s sword, he reached out and began to choke both Brendan and Dorian. Gorgoch thrust Dorian away and nearly into the water. He wanted to focus his rage on Brendan.

“Your pitiful toy can’t stop me, boy!” he taunted.

Brendan tightened his grip on the sword and somehow started to calm his mind. The magical sword responded to Brendan and radiated more power. Gorgoch’s elusive expression told the tale, and he released his grip on Brendan. The power of the sword pushed the ghost back to the very tip.

Dorian ran back to Brendan’s side. “Don’t destroy him! He’s not in control.”

She reached out and placed her hand on Brendan’s, and her energy crackled up the blade until it met Gorgoch’s chest. The ghost was sent like a rocket out of the Black Forest and away from the witch. Dorain and Brendan fell to the ground sweating and exhausted.

“I couldn’t let you destroy him,” she wheezed. “He’s our friend.”

“Sorry. He wasn’t leaving me much choice.”

Biddy had already freed herself from the tangled branches and bubble residue and scooped up Rory. Lizzie got to her feet and hobbled back to the group.

“Now what?” Lizzie asked.

“Now we finish this,” declared Dorian.