The Dominion Pulse Read online

  Frank was in the garage and had already checked the kitchen while Garnash checked the upstairs rooms since he was the lightest and least likely to cause a collapse. Lizzie searched the living room, dining room, and the closets. Her hands were black with soot; everything she picked up would crumble in her fingers.

  “I found something,” Garnash called from the upstairs hallway.

  Lizzie and Frank both ran to the bottom of the broken stairs and looked up at the Gnome. He was holding a shiny bronze-colored bracelet high above his head. “Check it out!” Garnash tossed the trinket down to Lizzie who snatched it out of midair.

  She offered it to Frank who gave it a once over. “It’s like our little man says, if the fire didn’t hurt it, then it could be something special.”

  Lizzie nodded and placed the bracelet into the drawstring bag that she carried on her back. “Keep looking.”

  They returned to their areas and continued to sift through the mess. It didn’t take long before Frank ran in with an item in hand.

  “You won’t believe what I found!” Frank said in his excitement. He held up a shiny metal falcata for the others to see. The sword was obviously durable, with a curved shape and a surprisingly sharp edge. Frank whipped it around like a Celtic warrior from Gaul. “I would love to keep this.”

  Lizzie shrugged. “It’s yours.” She turned away and walked over to where the entryway closet used to be and began to kick aside the remains of torched coats and hats.

  Frank swiped the falcata through the air and admired the way it felt in his hands. “I could get used to this,” he said, admiring the weapon. “You might be on your own with the bow staff, Liz.” Frank cut the air again and then held the falcata in front of him to admire it. “I’ll have to find a way to put you on my back for easy access.” He lifted up the sword and laid it against his back trying to figure out where he would want it placed, when something unexpected happened. As soon as the falcata touched his back, two leather straps crisscrossed over Frank’s shoulders and around his chest, attaching the weapon to him.

  “No way!” Frank screamed.

  Lizzie rushed back into the living room, ready to fight someone or something, only to find Frank with a huge smile on his face. “What’s going on?”

  Frank turned around as quick as a flash, showing Lizzie his back. “Can you dig it!”

  Lizzie’s eyes widened as far as they could. “How did that happen?”

  “Not sure, but it’s my curvy sword now.”

  Lizzie shrugged and went back to the closet. Frank pulled the sword out of its sheath and noticed that the straps receded when he did so. He replaced it on his back and the straps connected the weapon to his body once more. “Oh yeah, I can handle this.”

  Lizzie had no idea if anything else was going to be in the house. She was beginning to get tired. It had been such a long day that she closed her eyes and began to rub her forehead. She wondered why they were bothering to continue, but an image began to surface in her mind. She wasn’t sure if it was a memory or something else, but there it was. An image of a shoebox dominated her thoughts. She got up immediately and stalked into the living room where Frank was still pulling the curved sword from his back and then replacing it. She glanced around the room trying to remember where the shoebox was kept. Then it hit her. She marched over to where the TV stand used to be and began to rummage around. The box had already turned to ash, but she found three items that she never knew were there.

  Frank and Garnash appeared at her side. “Whatcha got there?” Frank asked.

  Lizzie dusted off a bell, a medallion, and a flask and held them up.

  Garnash looked the items over for the briefest of moments. “Most definitely magical things, Lizzie.”

  Lizzie agreed. She stored the items in her backpack and looked at Garnash and Frank. “Do you think there is anything else here?”

  Both of them shook their heads. “I think we found what we are going to find,” Garnash said.

  “I’m good with that,” Frank added.

  Lizzie closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on her home. Was there any other clue that she should consider?

  The answer was no. Were the things they found going to be able to help them in any way? Lizzie couldn’t be sure, but she was ready to get back to Corways. That she was sure of.

  Chapter 3

  Bonds

  Della sat with her back against a massive tree trunk in one of the most frightening locations in all of Ann wn—within earshot of Arawn’s castle. Just thinking about the Celtic warrior gave Della the shakes. That wasn’t new for Della; almost everything gave her the shakes. She was just a Puck, after all, not much bigger than a squirrel, but less hairy, thankfully.

  She poked her long thin nose out from around the tree and sniffed the air. Della’s sense of smell was incredible, so she always tried to use it to her advantage when she was forced to go out on these little messenger runs for Argona, Dewi, or Lir. Her nostrils flared as she took in every scent that danced on the breeze—Arawn was nowhere to be found.

  The Puck scampered up the side of the tree and into its branches. All of the small, furry critters got out of her way. They must have known what kind of a hurry she was in. Della hopped from one tree to the next, moving as quickly as she could under the cover the trees offered until she finally reached a gorge that cut the forest in half.

  Della edged out on a thick branch and sniffed the air again. There was still no sign of the Celtic warrior, but Della was always nervous that he would show up anyway. The messenger looked down in the gap in the ground and gulped away her fear. She hated delivering messages to Lir more than any of the others for a couple of reasons. The jump was narrow and scary and even worse than that, Lir was a big jerk.

  Della checked her pocket to be sure the note was still in its place. “Wouldn’t want to show up without you,” she said to the small piece of parchment.

  She slid her arms into their place on the interior of her cloak. Della took a deep breath and stepped off of the branch, plunging towards the gorge. The Puck held her arms tight to her body to increase her speed as she shot past the lip of the gap. Once inside the gorge, the space opened up and revealed an underground stream surrounded by a combination of rocks, tree roots, and dirt.

  Della spread her arms and rode the currents of air towards a group of trilithons that comprised Lir’s prison cell at the south end of the gorge. She cruised lazily on the air, enjoying the wind in her hair and the quietness of the stream all the way to her destination. She tilted her body up and forced her arms all the way out, causing her to float down into a smooth landing.

  “Bravo,” a thunderous voice cheered sarcastically from the darkness of a cave. Flashes of lightning danced in the air of the space, bright enough to illuminate the prisoner within.

  Lir sat on a large stone like a cave king with his hands resting on his knees. He had long wavy brown hair, a short-cropped beard and eyes as wild as a hurricane. He got to his feet and walked as far as his prison would allow him and stared down at the messenger.

  “Lord Lir,” Della began, her voice faltering at the sight of the god of storms and war. “Lady Argona sends you this message.”

  “Hold it up so that I can read it, Puck,” he ordered.

  Della inched forward and held the note aloft with an extremely shaky hand.

  “Hold it still!” Lir snarled. He read the words, and a sick grin crawled across his face. “’Can you feel the change in Otherworld?’ Great question, and I do believe that I can.”

  Lir waved his hand over the paper as lightning arched from his fingertips, instantly igniting it. Della’s finger began to burn; she released the note and started blowing on her fingertips. Lir turned to Della and said, “Deliver this message to Argona, Dewi, and Warnach: Elathan has arrived.”

  “Yes, sire,” Della said with a bow.

  Before she could say anything else, Lir opened his mouth and exhaled a powerful gust of wind. Della was swept up in the gale and ba
rely managed to open her cloak to ride the current. The wind carried her up and out of the gorge, her mission already begun.

  …

  Dorian sat down, exhausted. Brendan had her training with him as he tried to regain his strength and mobility. They ran, swam, climbed, used swords, and what seemed like a million other things that he thought would help him continue to improve. She was tired, of course, but she loved all of the time that they were getting to spend together. Their relationship needed it. They trained a lot, but they also had moments in between when they would lay in the grass and look up at the clouds or laugh together as they splashed around in the water. Of course, there were more than a few of her favorite moments where they would be sparring and get caught up in each other to share a kiss.

  Brendan ran off to help Rory and the farmers get their equipment back in working order and that gave her a chance to prioritize village business. Just as Dorian sat down, a guard near the megaliths began sounding the alarm.

  Dorian rushed out of her house, her hands fiery red—the rainbow’s magic no longer needed—ready for battle. Brendan, Rory, Biddy, and other villagers came running as well. The runes on the smooth black structures flashed to life as a large flare in the center of the megaliths made everyone shield their eyes.

  “Wow! The whole village is here to greet us,” Frank said with a smile.

  Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. It was only then that Dorian realized she had been holding her breath. Lizzie, Frank, and Garnash stepped out of the megaliths and were greeted warmly.

  After the fanfare died down, Dorian, Brendan, Frank, Lizzie, Garnash, Rory, and Biddy met up at Dorian’s renovated house. The conference table was still in the kitchen, but it was like a whole house makeover had been done to the place. Brendan had enlisted the help of some of the village carpenters and in a matter of days Dorian had a modern, functional conference area and kitchen, not to mention an additional room and revamped windows throughout the home.

  “So how did everything go with your grandmother?” Dorian asked Frank.

  Lizzie and Frank explained the details and how thrilled his Aunt Kim was at having received the money. “Thanks again for the gold. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”

  Dorian walked over and gave Frank a hug. “You are one of us, Frank. You risked you life for our village. It was the least we could do for you.”

  Frank smiled shyly, and Lizzie stepped up to save him from the awkward situation. “Hey, we also went back to the house.”

  “How bad does it look?” Brendan asked, biting his fingernails.

  “Bad,” she replied. “I’m surprised that they haven’t knocked it down yet.” She thought it over for a second. “They are probably out there looking for Dad.”

  “Detective Simmons probably thinks I killed him,” Brendan scoffed. He recalled the persistent detective at Brookstone Park who was trying to take him and Meghan in for questioning over all of the craziness that went down at Syracuse with Conchar. Once all of this was over, Brendan’s top priority was to clear his name.

  “Anyway, I thought about how Elathan used Dad as a Seeker, and I figured that it was something he had always been,” Lizzie confessed.

  Brendan and Dorian looked at each other and shook their heads. “Not sure why we didn’t think of it earlier,” Dorian admitted.

  Lizzie pulled the bracelet, flask, medallion, and bell out and laid them on the table. She looked at Frank, and he realized that he was still wearing the falcata. He pulled it off his back as the straps receded and placed it on the table as well.

  “I figured that he might have found some other stuff along the way,” Lizzie said with a shrug.

  “She’s pretty bright, right?” Garnash praised his friend.

  Lizzie blushed and then held up the items. “We assume they have some sort of magical properties, but we don’t know for sure.” Frank cleared his throat and Lizzie corrected herself. “The sword is definitely magical.”

  Frank lifted it up and showed how it attached to his back. “Pretty cool, right?” He pulled it off his back again and then replaced it.

  “Just tell him it’s cool so he can shut up about it,” Garnash teased.

  The group examined the items, no one really knowing anything about them. Brendan looked them over with great interest but was careful about touching any of them. After all, it was his actions with the obsidian dagger that had brought the ultimate evil back to Earth. As a result, he was now especially wary of handling magical items.

  Frank lifted up the bell and studied it. There were some intricate etchings on its cover that he hadn’t noticed before. “Brendan, what do you think these are all about?”

  Before Brendan could stop him, Frank had tossed the bell to him, and Brendan caught it by instinct. A clear tone rang out from the item and Brendan’s head went numb.

  …

  Brendan shook his head in an effort to clear it, but when he glanced around he saw that he wasn’t in Dorian’s home any longer. There was a ten year-old boy holding a shiny object in his hands while he stared at the fire in the fireplace. A woman entered the room with her sewing and sat down at a small table.

  “Toren,” she said. “What’s on your mind, child?”

  The boy sighed before he turned to face his mother. “I don’t understand, Ma. If I’m supposed to be the Protector of Earth then why do I only have a bell to defend myself with? Why can’t I have a sword?”

  His mother put her sewing down and leaned to the edge of her seat. “Your father asked the same question of his parents when he was your age. ‘Why can’t I have a sword?’ And do you know what his parents said?”

  The young boy shook his head.

  Brendan watched the scene with great interest. There was so much to take in, so many details that were running through his mind by being privy to this conversation. He couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy and sadness at seeing the boy interact with his mother. Brendan had lost his mother a while back, and he would have given almost anything to see her again. Toren with his mother was almost too much to watch.

  “His father said, ‘You don’t really want a sword, Ordan, because if you have to have one, then that means that you are the only thing that stands in the way of true evil and the total destruction of Earth.’” Toren’s mother leaned forward and rubbed his head. “No, I’m happy that all you need is a bell. That makes my heart glad.”

  The boy nodded and looked back to the fire. Brendan had seen that look before. Toren had it all the way up until the moment Conchar killed him near Sam’s Creek. I wonder why he didn’t have the bell with him then?

  “Eagla aon olc scrios ach é a!” Toren whispered before he clanged the bell.

  “Fear no evil only destroy it,” Brendan said, recalling that Dorian said it was a loose translation. He felt himself slipping away from the past as the tone vibrated through his mind.

  …

  When Brendan’s eyes blinked and he looked around at all of the familiar faces in Dorian’s house, he knew that he was back. They stared at him, waiting for something.

  “And?” Lizzie asked, her elbow on the table and her hand supporting her chin. Her casual posture reminded him that his visions were now just a regular part of their lives.

  Brendan shook his head. “Let me fill you in.” Brendan described his vision of Arawn at the site in southwest America. He told them about Toren and more importantly about what Toren’s mother had said. “My sword should be the ultimate sign that we are in for the fight of our lives.”

  “None of us needed a vision to see that, Brendan,” Lizzie observed.

  “I agree,” Brendan replied. “I think this was more of a message to me that it’s time we find Bibe.”

  …

  The door to Oscar’s room swung open, seemingly on its own accord.

  This way…

  Oscar got to his feet and listened as the voice called out directions. His conscious mind obeyed blindly, but somewhere deep in his subconscious a li
ttle voice whispered out in the voice of reason. You’re being used, it warned.

  This way…

  Oscar’s feet continued down the hall and through many winding tunnels until he entered the vast throne room. He exhaled small clouds, but his body didn’t register the chill in the air. He walked on, as commanded, until he reached the base of an obsidian throne.

  “This is wrong!” screamed that small voice in his head. His mind and body were at one, however, so the statement fell on deaf ears.

  “Oscar,” the shadowman said, entering into Oscar’s field of vision. “You have been a faithful servant, but your work is not yet complete.”

  “Run, Oscar! Run!” shouted that little voice again.

  Oscar stood as still as a statue while the shadowman circled him like a fog. “My master requires your gift once again.”

  “Death first!” Oscar ignored the voice. Another challenge was too appealing.

  The shadowman stopped in front of Oscar and stared him in the eye, his face a billowing cloud of ether. “I don’t know what my master seeks, do you?”

  The sound of a heartbeat rang in his ears. The little voice was shocked into silence.

  …

  Nightfall came and Dorian gathered all her Leprechaun and non-Leprechaun friends together in the center of town. It wasn’t lost on her that the megaliths stood there, stoic and cold, reminders of that tragic day. She wanted her people to know that their efforts had not been in vain, so to try and bring some semblance of normalcy back to Corways, she threw a party.

  There was live music, dancing, and best of all—dinner. It was a mini-version of the Midsummer Celebration that never got to happen. She was pleased to see her people talking and laughing together again. Leprechauns were naturally a happy bunch so to lift the melancholy mood made her happy.

  “Howtadoo,” Colym said, stumbling his way past Dorian and Brendan’s table in his best green suit with his polished black buckled shoes and top hat. He walked on for another thirty feet before he toppled over into a bush, his feet sticking out comically.