The Obsidian Dagger Read online

  “Heel!” he commanded.

  The beast had all the leverage, though, while it had him pinned on his back. Normally he would just turn to vapor and move away from the threat, but the Cu Sith could do the same thing, and then it might take him out while they were in that form. He was stuck for a moment unless something in this dynamic changed.

  …

  When Brendan and Lizzie arrived at Dorian’s side, they saw a young woman who was powerful, smart, and agile. They also saw a Kelpie dragon that was all of those things but also enormous. They were all nearly vaporized by the dragon’s version of fire breath. Dodging to the right, Brendan caught a whiff of the toxic fumes the thing spewed down at them and he nearly puked.

  “Oh man!” exclaimed Lizzie. “That has to smell worse than your soccer shoes.”

  Normally, Brendan would have responded in kind, but the dragon lashed out with its large claw and nearly smashed him. Jibbing his sister took a place on the back burner.

  Dorian launched three consecutive blasts into the beast’s throat, but the thing showed little effect. It absorbed the attacks and gave it back to them in return. It slashed claws, snapped its jaws, whipped its tail, and spit stench-fire. The three were nimble, but growing weary from the battle. A tail caught Brendan and knocked him headlong into one of the bridge posts. The backside of the creature’s paw connected with Lizzie and threw her some twenty feet away. That left Dorian.

  “Fine, you foul bugger,” Dorian railed in anger. “You are going to wish that you never tangled with a Leprechaun.”

  The dragon roared and reared back on its hind legs. It opened its maw and launched itself at her. In a single snap it took the Leprechaun princess into its mouth.

  “Noooooooo!” screamed Brendan. He spun to his feet and charged forward with his silver sword gleaming.

  The dragon snorted and shook its head. Smoke began to trail out of the side of its mouth and nostrils. Its lips parted and a red light leaked from the opening. The dragon began to wail in pain until its head finally exploded!

  Dorian flipped out of the opening and landed gracefully on her feet right in front of Brendan who skidded to a stop.

  “I hate Kelpies,” she quipped.

  They had time for exactly one smile, two chuckles, and three breaths before the entire Black River began to come to life. Hundreds of Kelpies began to emerge from the river.

  Lizzie walked up behind Brendan and Dorian. “Don’t these things ever stop?”

  “They are mindless creatures that can rearrange their bodies so that they never get tired. They never give up.” Dorian exhaled the last of her three breaths. “It’s likely that they will just wear us down and overrun us.”

  Biddy carried Rory over and they dropped down to land on Lizzie’s shoulders. “We can take them on, Dorian,” said Biddy.

  “Don’t give up hope yet,” added Rory. “We’ll get to Duncan in time.”

  “He’s right, you know,” boomed a voice from above.

  The five looked up and saw the enlarged form of Gorgoch holding the Cu Sith by the scruff of its neck like a puppy.

  “Aww, demon puppy,” said Lizzie.

  Gorgoch flung the Cu Sith way out of the Black Forest and well out of sight. His face still shimmered, but the others knew he was smiling.

  “Look!” yelled Rory. “The Kelpies are running for it!”

  They watched the Black River fill itself back in as the riverbed became full once more. In a matter of seconds the water was calm and slowly moving along.

  Gorgoch shrank back down. “Let’s go. We’ve been delayed too long.”

  With that they crossed the bridge very wary of what could be coming their way.

  Chapter 14

  Visions from a Ghost

  I’m sure that Morna’s not done yet,” Dorian said warningly, as if anyone present thought that she was.

  Biddy’s wings fluttered softly as she flew next to Lizzie’s shoulder and Rory who was perched upon it. “That was some mighty fine bow work, Rory.”

  “Thanks, Bid,” replied the small Leprechaun happily. “And your flying was divine.” Biddy blushed and waved him off before he turned to Lizzie. “Nice use of stick, Liz.”

  “Thanks. I guess I was a little quick to judge the weapon I was given.”

  Dorian chuckled a little. “From the way my father tells it, we form the weapons we wield.”

  “What?” Lizzie scoffed. “I mean I was pretty good back there, but there is no way I would have chosen a staff.”

  “Aye, but you ended up with one anyway, so that tells me that it’s the weapon that would suit you best,” replied Dorian.

  Lizzie considered the notion while Biddy glanced over at her wings. “I just hope the magic holds up until we’re done with this whole mess.”

  Brendan watched the conversation and noticed the way the Leprechauns were looking. It was like a fever was coming on and they were fending it off with Vitamin C, but it would eventually hit them hard enough they they wouldn’t be able to fight back. Gorgoch must have seen the concern on his face.

  “They are worsening,” the spirit man said leaning in close to Brendan’s ear. “If we take too much longer, then I fear they will no longer be under their own control.”

  Brendan’s mind ran through all of the worst possible outcomes as they walked along the path in the Black Forest. The Black River and the bridge were behind them now and dark shadows and ominous, unforeseen dangers awaited them. The thought of the unknown was hard on Brendan. What would happen to Dorian, Rory, or Biddy if this strange illness, if it could be called that, overtook them? Would they end up like the Sidhes or the Merrows? Would it be worse than being controlled by Morna? Would they die?

  After mulling around those disturbing thoughts for a while, Brendan started to focus on what would happen to him and to Lizzie. Without the help of the others how did they hope to complete the task? Gorgoch had already told them about the human slaves Morna had, and that was not a fate that Brendan wanted. A zombie-like monster at the will of a crazy old witch… no thanks. The locals called them Ruas for their glowing red eyes, a trademark of the poor devils. Not a fate that anyone would want to suffer.

  They walked along in silence, listening intently to their surroundings. Any noise that was out of place, albeit in a cursed forest, drew their attention and made them ready their guard.

  Brendan was getting tired of the on-edge feeling, so he decided to probe Gorgoch‘s memory. “Are we there yet?”

  “Not quite,” the ghost replied. “More obstacles await us.”

  “Great. Like what?” inquired Lizzie. She had calmed herself considerably after the fight with the Kelpies, but the anticipation of the next foe was making her antsy.

  Gorgoch tried to think back to when he was alive and stormed the gates as a vengeful youth. Losing his love had driven him to the edge of murder, only it wasn’t Dullahan or Morna that received his wrath, but the unsuspecting people that Morna had unleashed him upon. It was hard to remember anything but the hate he felt at the time. It was blind rage he supposed.

  “Well, it’s hard to remember.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Dorian.

  “I came through here so fast and fueled by so much hate that I’m having a hard time remembering anything other than that.” Gorgoch moved along in thought and a few memories floated to the surface of his consciousness.

  “After the bridge there was… ” he fought hard to pull the memory up. “Darkness.”

  “Well that’s helpful,” derided Brendan.

  Three more steps showed Brendan, Lizzie, Rory, and Dorian what Gorgoch had meant. The path had led them directly over a hole in the ground that was covered in overgrowth. Gravity won out and they plummeted into the unknown darkness with a scream.

  Biddy flapped her wings and looked over at Gorgoch with great surprise. He shrugged. “Oh yeah, a cave.”

  Biddy and Gorgoch floated down the entrance of the cave in time to see the rest of the group untangling them
selves from one another. Lucky for Rory, he was laid out flat on top of the pile.

  “Crickey!” the little man cried. “A little warning would have been nice there.”

  “Sorry about that,” replied Gorgoch with a shimmering smile. “I forgot what the darkness was.” Gorgoch made his visceral self glow a bit brighter and shed a modicum of light in the small room.

  Brendan got to his feet first and offered his hands to Lizzie and Dorian. He pulled them up and they all glanced around the cavern.

  “Wow, it’s cozy in here,” Brendan joked as he felt the dampness on his backside and tried in vain to wipe it off. He held his sword aloft and pointed it back up the entrance. The sword illuminated the smooth, steeply-pitched slide that they just tobogganed down. “Good thing it wasn’t just a straight fall.”

  “That’s for sure,” agreed Biddy. “It was probably fifteen meters or so.”

  “That would have left a mark,” chuckled Rory. Halfway through his laugh a fit of coughs set in and made him struggle to breathe.

  Brendan looked around the small cavern and took note of the few cave characteristics that he learned about in Earth Science. There were small stalagmites and stalactites that littered the ceiling and the floor. The walls glistened with small flecks of crystals that formed as water ran down carving out the cave over thousands of years. The cave opened up to a thin passage that was a dozen meters opposite the entrance. The floor’s gradient sloped in a subtle manner.

  “Well, Gorgoch, do we go to the passage or back topside?”

  Gorgoch thought back and he sighed. “We have to move forward, but I want to warn you that down these passages was where I was snatched up and taken to Morna.”

  “I think the warning of danger goes without saying,” offered Dorian. “Let’s go.”

  It was eerie, really, being back in the same place where life had essentially ended. Gorgoch was young and strong then. He was alive, at least physically. Emotionally, well, that was another story. He tried to not relive the last day of his life, but memories have a funny way of being seen, especially when they aren’t wanted.

  Brendan walked in the lead of the pack beside the ghost man. Dorian brought up the rear with Lizzie carrying Rory on her shoulder and Biddy gliding beside her in the middle.

  The cave was nothing special, as far as Brendan could tell—it was just dark. The glow of all things magical that they brought along shed enough light that finding sure footing and a walkable path wasn’t really difficult. He wasn’t at all concerned about the cave itself. What was concerning him were the flashes of a vision that kept poking into his mind and into his line of sight.

  The vision was scary. A young man with a lantern was limping ahead of them on the path. He had dark brown hair down to his shoulders and looked like he was straight out of the seventeen hundreds. He was sweating and breathing heavily and his leg had been damaged somewhere along the way.

  Brendan looked at the others, but they gave no indication that they saw the guy. Gorgoch may have seen the vision, but who could tell with his elusive facial features.

  Brendan looked back to the young man in his vision and watched.

  …

  How old was he when he died? Twenty-three? Twenty-six? It was hard to remember. It didn’t matter, really. The circumstances mattered and they stayed with a person well beyond the body and this world.

  It was hot that night. He had charged into the Black Forest, probably the only one to do so to that point, with revenge on his heart. That witch had taken every thing from him… He was angry. Hate made his body feel that much hotter. The steamy night didn’t help things.

  The forest was empty except for the trees that seemed to move and slide, changing the path, changing his course. They lead him over the Black River and into the cave. Why hadn’t he remembered that? Memories are funny.

  He fell and slid all the way down like the others did, only his leg slammed into a rock that jutted from the ground. He had smashed through it, but it reeked havoc on his knee. He was sure he had heard something snap. His lantern had skidded away from him and settled itself after tracing circles on the stone floor. He should have just laid there and cooled off. He probably could have crawled back up, but he wasn’t there to let his beloved’s murder go without revenge. He crawled over to the lantern and then got to his feet. He spotted the long passageway and limped towards it. They were going to pay, the witch and her demon.

  The young man half dragged his left leg as he paused to look at a puddle of reflecting water. It had a weird effect. It appeared to go fifty or sixty feet deep, but the boy accidentally kicked a stone into it and it only sunk a few inches before it came to rest. The boy laughed a hearty “Ha!” and then limped ahead. Brendan looked down at the stone as he and the others followed the boy.

  The path ahead opened up and the guy limped on unaware of the many dark shadows that moved on the walls and ceiling.

  He should have seen them coming. Why hadn’t he just looked up or at the walls or even in the reflection of the water? Gorgoch knew the answer. He was blinded and foolish. Fools usually died.

  …

  Were the shadows a vision or were they happening at that moment as they were traveling? Brendan glanced around nervously.

  “Does anyone see anything?”

  They all responded with a “no” or “not yet,” but Brendan remained alert. Alert enough for a guy having a vision, at least.

  …

  They crawled on the walls like they were spiders. It was unnatural for creatures that large to cling to stone that way. Gorgoch wanted to admonish himself for not seeing the slaves, but how could he. He hadn’t known they were there. He had no idea that they even existed! He was a fool, but it was more out of ignorance than a stubborn refusal to acknowledge a truth. The latter was much worse. Either way it didn’t help him now.

  …

  The first thing that came at the boy was hideous and frightening. It was male and had corded, rippling muscles and long, stringy, wet hair. Its red eyes glowed in the lantern’s light and its gaping maw snapped open and shut.

  The boy only had time to jump backwards and narrowly miss being the thing’s feast. It hissed and growled like a predator. It slashed out with its hands and nails attempting to tear through the boy. Again the boy moved. Brendan was surprised how agile the boy was with his gimpy leg, but adrenaline must have been coursing through his veins.

  The boy reached behind his back and quickly unveiled a flintlock musket. It must have been preloaded because he blasted the thing attacking him and drove it back ten feet or so. The musket was so loud and bright that Brendan thought there was no way that the others didn’t see and hear it, too. He looked back, but again they gave no signs of noticing anything.

  The red-eyed monster rolled down the embankment and settled in the small pool. The gunpowder wafted through the stale air and Brendan crinkled his nose. The few moments must have been terrifying for the boy. The Ruas leapt from the walls and ceiling and surrounded him. To his credit the young man snarled his lip and held the musket like a baseball bat. He walloped the things as they attacked, but soon the numbers became too much.

  …

  “How many of them had there been?” mused Gorgoch. He was easily outnumbered but he was strong and young and cocky. He swung that gun and smashed in heads, but the beasts were also strong and they were filled with evil and drive. They weren’t going to stop. They were Morna’s slaves; her walking dead. He shivered, still feeling their corpsy fingers close on his flesh. He cried out and then the memory faded.

  …

  The creatures tore at the boy’s clothes and slammed their fists into his body and head. The boy yelled and fought back, but it didn’t take long for him to fall into unconsciousness. Brendan tried to avert his eyes because the beasts were threatening to pull the young man’s limbs off his body, but the vision wouldn’t allow him to look away. It was important somehow for him to see, to understand.

  A large Rua lifted the boy by hi
s throat with one hand and opened its ugly mouth that was filled with sharp black teeth. It was like the guy’s head was an apple and this creature was in the mood for a snack. Its mouth opened wider than any human’s mouth was capable of and pulled the boy’s head in close. Just before the bite, though, a commanding voice from deep within the caves shouted for the creature to stop.

  The red-eye hesitated and then continued to pull the boy’s head into its maw. Something spun through the air cutting a current as it gleamed in the already dim light. Seconds later the large Rua’s head fell away from its shoulders as the boy’s unconscious form crumpled to the stone floor. A familiar figure marched out of the shadows and plucked a hatchet from the clavicle of the decapitated red-eye.

  Dullahan wiped the ax head on the thing’s chest and slid the weapon back into its loop.

  “Bring the boy,” he echoed to the other red-eyes.

  Two thin Ruas knelt down and picked up the boy by the armpits. They trailed behind Dullahan as he exited the cave. The many other red-eyes began to devour the dead one’s body in the meantime. Waste not, want not.

  Chapter 15

  The Witch’s Ruas

  The vision faded and Brendan was left with the darkened cave. What a crazy thing to see! Images that no person would want to see! Why did he have to see it? What did it mean?

  “I think we need to be cautious in this part of the cave,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?” asked Rory. “There’s nothing here but a little pool.”

  “No,” Gorgoch spoke up. “He’s right. This place is cursed with evil.”

  Dorian nodded and allowed her eyes to roam the dimly lit cavern. Nothing seemed out of place, yet their was something in the air. Something that gave her chills.

  The group walked cautiously on the thin path, and both Gorgoch and Brendan’s eyes scanned the shadows on the walls and ceilings.