The Dominion Pulse Page 21

  The creature realized what happened and tried to pull up and away from her, but Argona clung to the whip with conviction. The whip shortened and pulled the goddess towards the creature’s throat. Once she was there, she pulled out a silver dagger and drove it straight into the soft underside of its neck. It lurched and bucked, but Argona simply pulled the blade out and stabbed it again and again. A hoarse cough wheezed from the monster’s lips as its wings went limp and it began to fall towards the ground.

  Argona recalled the full length of her whip and plummeted beside the dying creature. Arawn swept in and snagged her out of the air; they watched the niseag land with a thud. Arawn’s griffin landed softly, and the two dismounted and approached the beast with caution.

  “Well, that was impressive,” he said as he sheathed his sword.

  “Stick around, you may learn something,” she replied playfully.

  Both of the warriors moved forward to examine the niseag’s body. Brendan walked alongside of them. Apart from being at least twice as massive as any niseag Brendan had seen, the creature had horns protruding from all over its body. The coloration seemed strange as well, blending a deep blood-red body with neon yellow veins that could easily be seen beneath the tough hide. The claws were disturbingly long, but what was most notable was that each talon seemed to be made up of two points. It was as if the creature’s original talon split to give it twice as many claws to kill with.

  Arawn looked over at Argona with worried eyes. “If these are Caoranach’s effects and she isn’t even near full strength yet, then what do you think will happen when she is?”

  “I think we’ll see swarms of creatures mutated like this poor beast. They’ll overrun Earth and everybody on the planet,” she replied. “Obviously we’ll need to find her soon and stop her.”

  “Obviously,” he confirmed. He reached up and touched the skin near a cut on her cheek. “I’m just glad that you are well.”

  She smiled shyly and put her hand on his chest. “I always will be with you.”

  Brendan turned away as they began to kiss, not wanting to feel like a creeper. He looked around in the surrounding patches of trees and spotted some Māori tribesmen hiding. They were frightened and understandably so after seeing the niseag and the battle. They were quietly watching from what they thought was a safe distance before there was a commotion that sent many of them running for their lives. When Brendan heard the predatory screech of some sort of bird pierce the trees, he knew why.

  One man sprinted out into the open, and unfortunately for him a pouakai—a giant bird of prey that went extinct sometime in the 1400s—zipped in from what seemed like an impossible angle and clamped its claws right through him. The man didn’t even have time to scream but the bird did. It whipped its head towards Arawn and Argona and screeched again.

  “Look at the veins. They’re bright yellow!” Arawn said.

  “She can mutate Earth animals, too!” Argona shouted.

  The pouakai rose up—the tribesman’s dead body hanging loosely on the eagle’s split talons like a shish kabob—and swept down on their position. Arawn’s griffin didn’t wait for an order and intercepted the mutated bird. The two slashed and clawed, but the pouakai’s strength was too much and a free split claw gashed the griffin’s neck, dropping it from the sky like a stone.

  “Noooo!” screamed Arawn. “Blasted bird, come to me!”

  The pouakai dove at the Celtic warrior as ordered and Arawn charged directly towards it, his massive broad sword coming right in line with the bird’s head.

  Brendan turned away and closed his eyes, bracing for the impact, but when he opened them back up he found himself sitting on the living room couch in the CHH.

  He sat there and considered what he had seen in the vision, and he came to the conclusion that he hoped he would never have to meet up with Caoranach.

  This was a vision that he would have to share with everyone in the morning.

  …

  “How long has he been like this?”

  Toren turned and shook his head. “Longer than I care to remember.”

  Nuada’s lips were dry and his hair was soaked in perspiration. He was twitching a moment ago, but the movements stopped when the guest arrived out of nowhere.

  “Why did you bring yourself here, Bibe?”

  “I had no other choice, Toren. Your descendent waited too long to come to me. Camulos and Tannus got there first.” She shook her head with regret, her body as transparent as Toren’s. “I was forced to make a decision, so before he could stab me I transfigured into my raven form and left my conscious vision behind, sending my essence here.”

  “So now Brendan has no one to train him, Bibe! The world will be lost!” shouted Toren in frustration.

  “Relax, Toren, I have planted my wisdom in paradigm liquid; he will still be trained.”

  “Paradigm liquid? You left behind a shadow and a pest to attest to the end of the world,” Toren chastised.

  “You’ve always been so melodramatic,” Bibe scoffed. “Nuada is what worries me.”

  Toren turned back to the window to the world and tried to find Brendan, but the image was hazy. The connection was fading and that meant that Nuada was fading as well.

  “What do you think is happening to him?” Toren asked, gesturing towards the silver god.

  Bibe shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like this, Toren. I’m at a loss.”

  “You’re the goddess of wisdom, for crying out loud! You know as well as I do that he’s dying, but I want to know why and what we can do about it.”

  Bibe looked away, her eyes moist, avoiding Toren’s hard gaze. “If I knew what to do then I would already have done it.”

  “While we’re trapped here, Elathan is out there amassing more and more power. How is a Protector supposed to contend with that?”

  “Have faith in your descendants, Toren,” Bibe said with a sigh. “They are the only hope we have.”

  …

  Detective Simmons checked his watch and waited as patiently as he could in the line at the hot dog cart. Breakfast seemed like forever ago and it was past two in the afternoon and the young guy in the front of the line was apparently ordering for half of the city. Simmons figured the vendor would be out of franks before he even got up there.

  His phone chirped and vibrated in his pocket so he pulled it out, thankful for the distraction from the hunger and the annoyance of junior in the front. The text was from Edwards, but it was only a link. Simmons clicked on the link and was sent back to the conservation’s website.

  “Holy crap!” he exclaimed as he stepped out of line and called Edwards.

  “Hello?” Edwards said on the other end of the call.

  Simmons skipped the pleasantries and got right to the point. “When was that video taken?”

  “Yesterday. Didn’t you see the time stamp?”

  “Do I look like an analyst? So you’re telling me that Brendan O’Neal was back at Sam’s Creek?”

  “That’s what the video is telling you, Detective. I can’t say that he’s there now, though.”

  Simmons nodded as he thought. “Meet me there in thirty minutes. I want to have a look.”

  Edwards agreed and ended the call.

  “What would bring Brendan back to New York?” Simmons asked aloud.

  That was the question of the day.

  …

  “Where is the Seeker?” Conchar asked, fearful that Oscar might not return from the dense fog. The Seeker’s disappearance would not sit well with Elathan.

  “Who cares? Did you not feel the wave? His usefulness is over,” Lir chuckled.

  Conchar remained silent, but his mind flashed over with anger. The fool is shortsighted and egotistical, he thought.

  “The firblogs probably drowned him already, wizard, so don’t get your hopes up that he will return.”

  Conchar had heard of the firblogs, but really didn’t know that much about them other than they also resided in the bogs back in
Ireland and Scotland and were accused of a lot of devilish behavior.

  Conchar began walking towards the Swamp of Demise, intent on finding the Seeker, but before he could take five steps the Seeker emerged on his own. The wizard glanced back at the god of storms who looked stunned.

  “So, the Seeker survives,” Lir said with a smirk. “How fortunate.”

  The Seeker’s expression was blank in response. He reached his hand out with an open palm facing Lir and with that same blank expression the Seeker squeezed his hand into a fist. Lir screamed in agony when blood droplets ripped their way out of his pores and traveled into the fog like a sick, red cloud.

  Conchar allowed a small smile as he and the Seeker walked past Lir who had fallen to his knees to catch his breath.

  “Congratulations, Watcher,” Conchar said. “Tech Duinn is now yours to protect.

  …

  The fog was crazy thick over the bog, but somehow it hung there and only there. Brendan stood at its edge and tried fruitlessly to peer through the muddle out towards the source of the latest heartbeat when a groaning caught his attention from behind. At first the figure was dark and blurred, but after a moment Brendan could see the man clearly. He recognized the large god immediately as Lir. The massive god struggled to get to his feet, stumbled, and then finally caught his balance. His clothes were soiled with blood and dirt and he looked like he had just had the beat down of a lifetime.

  “Blasted human!” Lir shouted. “I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I do.”

  The god of storms got to his feet and gimped in the opposite direction of the swamp. Brendan waited for a beat and then started to follow, but something moving in the water behind him drew his eye. He could barely see the edge of the water, but there was something there just below the surface. He could hear whatever it was moving in the layers beneath the dense soup-like fog. Brendan knelt down to investigate and since he was having a vision, he felt like it was a low risk endeavor.

  The closer he got to the edge of the swamp, the more clearly he could see the murky water and the bubbles from the creature moving around. It was too dark to see any fish or turtles or whatever Otherworld had to offer in the form of swamp critters, but he tried to look nonetheless.

  Brendan hadn’t seen very much on his previous heart vision exploits in Otherworld, but this current vision was the clearest to date. It was almost like he was there, even though he knew his body was back on Earth awaiting his return. His senses were sharper than they had been in previous visions. The swamp smelt like mildew and mold, which made sense since the air was warm and muggy. He felt the perspiration beginning to bead on his forehead so he used his fingers to wipe them away, surprised at how tangible everything felt.

  A large air bubble burst from the water and Brendan strained his eyes to see; he didn’t expect what happened next. A pair of pale white hands exploded from the water and dug their fingers into Brendan’s shirt and yanked him straight into the water. Brendan grabbed at the creature’s wrists and tried to free himself, but the thing’s hold was like a vice. He wanted to know what held him and how it was even possible in his vision, but the beast held him at arm’s length and it was too dark to see anything other than what was twelve inches in front of him.

  The creature shot through the water with Brendan in tow dragging him along the bottom of the shallow bog. Seconds later Brendan found himself in a long underwater tunnel still being dragged by the creature. Brendan struggled against the hold the whole way while he tried to hold his breath, which was growing more and more difficult, but thankfully he and the creature popped out into an air pocket somewhere deep within the bog.

  Brendan gratefully gulped in the acrid air in the darkened cave. The creature had vanished from Brendan’s side and he had no idea where it was or where he was. He took a few deep breaths and strained to listen. He was rewarded by hearing a few pairs of feet shuffling around him and the soft splash of creatures entering and exiting the pool around him, some as near as a couple of feet.

  “Who are you?” he asked, finally.

  All of the sounds stopped and Brendan was only left with the sounds of his own breathing. “Answer me!” he shouted.

  A soft thud sounded and then a bluish light glowed off to Brendan’s left. He shielded his eyes briefly since the contrast in brightness was an attack on his eyes. He squinted and spotted a dozen pale white beings standing on rock shelves or half exposed in the water. All of them were bone thin with scraggily white hair and deep dark eyes that were as dark as the murky water they lived in.

  “Tech Duinn… ” moaned the holder of the light source.

  “Tech Duinn? What does that mean?” Brendan asked.

  The being moved his lips without words escaping for a few seconds, as if speaking was painful. “Help is here,” he said, pointing his skeletal fingers down.

  “Help?” Brendan asked in repetition.

  The light barrier nodded slowly. “Now go!” he bellowed and threw the light directly at Brendan.

  The light grew brighter and brighter as it neared him. He held up his hands to brace for impact, but none came. He turned his head and saw Ken asleep in the bed across the room snoring slightly. Brendan rolled onto his back and thought about the people of the bog and understood that he and his friends were not alone in their struggle against Elathan. There were others and they were offering their assistance.

  Now, how do we get to Otherworld? he wondered.

  Chapter 16

  Leverage

  Arawn woke abruptly when he felt pressure around his neck. His eyes bulged and his breath left him as he was hoisted off of his stone bench and into the air. He clutched his throat but found no hands or noose around his neck, but he was choking all the same.

  His body was carried, hovering several feet above the cold mountain floor, through the trilithon’s barrier and into a passageway by the invisible force. He fought against unconsciousness as he was taken into the great chamber and unceremoniously deposited on the hard stone floor at Elathan’s feet.

  Arawn sat up, rubbed his throat, and drew in several deep breaths, trying to make up for the few moments that he had been deprived of oxygen. He looked up at the golden god, fully expecting to meet his end. It had been a long time coming, but he was not frightened. He was a warrior and every warrior knew that his or her time would come. This seemed to be Arawn’s time.

  Argona was standing off to the side near a giant map that was bubbling out of the wall, a brilliant representation of Otherworld. Four of the realms were lit in a soft golden glow, leaving only two to be backlit in white.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Elathan asked, his back to Arawn and his eyes fixed on the massive map on the wall of his chamber. “Four realms in my complete control, what could be better?”

  Arawn glanced towards Argona and then back to Elathan. “You could go away and never be heard from again,” Arawn suggested.

  Elathan turned slightly and sneered at the Celtic warrior. “Soon I will own all of the realms of Otherworld and then I will return to Earth, Arawn, your Earth. Would you like to go back home, warrior?”

  “Not to your version of Earth.” Arawn struggled to his feet and stood on shaky legs. He kept his eyes trained on Elathan, choosing to present the golden god with the presence of a proud warrior rather than a defeated one.

  “You have something I need, Arawn, and you have been stubborn about keeping it from me,” Elathan said, getting straight to the point.

  Elathan walked over and stood in front of the Celtic warrior, his hands crossed and locked behind his back. Arawn was a big man, bigger than most, but Elathan stood eye to eye with him. Arawn didn’t often find himself opposing someone of whom he was afraid, but he found that Elathan was the exception.

  “If I am to make over Earth to my imagining, then I need to know where Caoranach is.” Elathan tilted his head and looked through Arawn’s head trying to penetrate the protection Nuada placed on it. Arawn said nothing. “How valuable you must be to Nuad
a for him to give you all the gifts that he has given, and your loyalty to him is to be commended, but look what he’s made of your life. And where is he now?”

  Elathan turned his back on Arawn and began to walk towards his map again. Arawn followed, not of his own volition, but because Elathan’s invisible force snatched Arawn’s feet and legs, forcing him to follow. Arawn felt like a marionette puppet and Elathan had a firm grasp on the strings.

  “Nuada loves Earth and wants to protect it from the likes of you. That’s why I’m loyal to him, Elathan. He showed me loyalty and trust.”

  “He made you, a human, into a god! Do you see the lunacy in that? Don’t try to lie to me, Arawn, that’s why you’re loyal to him, because he granted you powers beyond those natural for your species. He set you above all others so that the pair of you could gloat from your pedestals—correction, my pedestal.”

  Elathan set his eyes on Argona for a moment before addressing Arawn again. “And what did that loyalty and trust bring to you, Arawn, a life of violence and blood? He made you into a prison guard and that eventually led you here to be tortured and beaten like a common criminal. You even lost your true love in the process,” he said, gesturing towards Argona who avoided Arawn’s eyes. “How sad for you, the great and powerful Arawn, hero to the Celts.”

  Arawn kept his eyes on Argona, but it was as if he was looking at a memory instead of the woman he once would have given his life for. “Necessities to ensure Earth’s protection.”

  “Earth’s protection? Earth’s greatest Protector stands before me now as a miserable shell of his former self. The days of the Protectors are long gone, Arawn. Mark my words.”

  “The O’Neals will never give up. They will protect the Earth.”

  “Face it, Arawn, Earth’s Protectors are a joke,” Elathan scoffed. “I easily manipulated their tiny minds to my will, even when my connection to Earth was paltry. Earth is defenseless and well past its prime, Arawn. My wish is for a stronger world, and I can make that happen.”