by N. P. Martin
"A lesson?"
"Drakkar showed you visions, didn’t he?"
I nodded. "How did you know?"
"It wasn’t hard to work out. Whatever he showed you, I have no doubt they contained much blood."
I was back to being uncomfortable now as I frowned deeply at him. "Were you in my damn head as well?"
"No." He paused as he stared at me a moment. "I don’t need visions to know what your future holds, Corvin. You’re on a dark path now, son, I can see that. A path that will lead to much blood and violence, and even death. But I can also see that it’s a righteous path, though a nonetheless dangerous one."
I stared back at him a moment as I took in what he said. "What does serpent son mean?" I asked.
Davey frowned. "Serpent son?"
"Iolas called me that just before he tried to kill me. He implied that my mother was involved with something that led to her death. Do you know anything about that?"
"No," Davey said as he shook his head, though I couldn’t tell if he was lying or not, or even why he would lie. "I don’t."
I stared at him a moment longer before nodding. "Okay. Just thought I’d ask."
Davey nodded. "Fate has a way of providing us with answers eventually. No doubt it will do the same for you."
"Yeah," I said, thinking of the blood-drenched visions shown to me by Drakkar. "No doubt."
Chapter 24
Davey said it would take a day or two to perform the Frankenstein procedure of growing me a new hand, so the next day I decided to pay a visit to my parents’ graves at Mount Jerome Cemetery. A taxi took me there and I told the driver to wait on me while I went in.
The weather was beginning to turn. It was a cloudy afternoon with a notable nip in the air, signifying that autumn was just around the corner. Which I didn’t mind because the Rotting Season is my favorite one. All that heat over the summer had become tiresome anyway. I don’t know how people live in places where it’s hot and sunny every day. Personally, I like my weather to be changeable, which in Ireland, it definitely is. As the saying goes, if you don’t like the weather in Ireland, just wait twenty minutes, although the blistering summer sort of undermined that particular saying.
The cemetery seemed different during the day, at least compared to how it was the last time I was here with Davey and Dalia to do a spot of grave digging. It was less ominous in the daylight. There was also no chance of bumping into any ghouls this time, since they’d all be lying up in some dark hole as they awaited night to fall so they could begin their feasting again.
As I crouched down in front of the two gravestones, I felt a sense of peace come over me, partly because of the serene surroundings, and partly because a growing sense of purpose was stirring in me, which is something I hadn’t noticed until now. Before the death of my mother, I didn’t have much of a sense of purpose. I clung to the flimsy idea that I would continue to pursue my music—the thing I loved the most—but that idea didn’t seem to fit with me anymore, not after recent events. Things had changed and there was no going back. Where these changes would eventually take me, I still didn’t know, as I was still figuring everything out, still trying to sort out my place in the world. I just knew that getting justice for my mother, and to a lesser extent for Dalia, felt good. More than that, it felt right.
"It looks like you were right, Ma," I said. "As always. Maybe I am meant for other things after all."
I thought about the visions that Drakkar had shown me. They’d been on my mind ever since they happened and I was constantly turning over their meaning in my head. Most of all, I wondered if my future was set in stone, or did I have the power to change it?
Time will tell, I thought as I turned my attention back to my mother’s gravestone.
"I did it, Ma. I got Iolas, and that bastard Iliphar. I’m not sure you would’ve liked how I did it, but… I did what I had to do. You can rest easy now," I said as my voice cracked a little and tears welled up in my eyes. "I miss you, Ma…"
Wiping my hand down my face, I took a deep breath to gather myself, before staring at my father’s gravestone. It had been twenty years since his death. A long time for someone to be gone, and easy to forget what they were like. My memories of my father were sketchy, yes, but I’ve never forgotten how I felt when I was around him, which was loved, and proud that he was my father.
"It’s been too long, Da," I said. "You deserve justice as well. You deserve to rest in peace as well, and I’m going to make sure that you do." I paused as I set my jaw. "Constantine is going to pay."
I stood up then and wiped the last of the tears from my eyes as a steely sense of purpose expanded in me.
"People think I’m on a dark path," I said, then shook my head. "They haven’t seen dark yet."
Book 3
Epigraph
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."
Friedrich Nietzsche
"A man that studied revenge keeps his own wounds green."
Francis Bacon
Chapter 1
There are many beautiful places on the island of Ireland, many of which I have visited over the years. These places, although scenic and steeped in fanciful history, are also more often than not, steeped in blood and permeated with a darkness unseen unless you knew what you were looking for.
Glandalough, a glacial valley nestled in the hugely expansive Wicklow Mountains, was no different. The place was known chiefly for the Early Medieval monastic settlement founded there by St. Kevin in the 6th Century. It is an area that contains two round towers and a number of small church buildings that are surrounded by oak woodland. On the surface, the area seems like a serene place of natural beauty, a place that attracts many tourists, hikers and even rock climbers.
But underneath all the natural beauty and mundane history lies an even more ancient aspect of Ireland’s character, and that is of course, the Fae. Just like in Cork, the Fae pretty much rule the whole of the Wicklow Mountains, doing so behind the facade of the Otherworld. For the most part, the Fae bother little with the humans who trek the paths and hiked the hills of Wicklow. Sometimes, however, people would go missing. Usually, it was assumed that these people had gotten lost somewhere, which it is easy to do if you don’t know what you are doing out there in the wilds. Sometimes bodies are recovered, sometimes not. Rarely did such disappearances draw much attention.
Until lately that is, when it was reported that five different people, all young women, had gone missing around Glandalough in the space of a month. It was enough to make local authorities angsty, and for the national media to report the strange disappearances. Search parties had been sent out to try and find the missing women, but none of them were turned up, either alive or dead. People were mystified, to the point where some started to say there must a serial killer operating in the area, a theory that not even the media took that seriously.
Some of the more informed people in the local area had, however, begun to talk about "evil faery’s", and as far as I was concerned, they weren’t far wrong. The disappearances had Fae written all over them. If the women had been taken by a werewolf or some other carnivorous creature, their remains would likely have been found by now. Werewolves and creatures like them tended not to clean up after themselves. They dragged their prey to a quiet spot to feast upon their flesh, and then they walked away from the remains, making no attempt to hide them.
No, this was Fae. I knew it in my bones the moment I read about the disappearances in the papers. And since I was at something of a loose end, and since I knew no one else would probably make the connection or do much about it, I decided to drive to Glandalough myself to see if I could get to the bottom of what was going on. Alone, I might add. Dalia was still in the Otherworld with Sorcha, and Amelia was busy with her own stuff. Monty was currently in Edinburgh making some new videos for his YouTube channel. So that only left me.
Not that I min
ded being alone. To be honest, since getting back from Cork over a week ago, I hadn’t felt much like company. The things I had done there, especially facilitating the murder of Glenn Morely, weighed heavily upon me. However much Morely may have deserved to die, it was still murder, and his blood was all over my hands, along with the blood of Iliphar. I had crossed a line for which there was no going back, and that kind of thing tended to change you deep down. I now felt like my soul had been blackened slightly, and that some inner light in me had been extinguished forever, leaving nothing only darkness behind.
Coming to Glandalough to try and help the missing girls (or at least find out what happened to them) was, in a way, an attempt by me to try and recover that part of myself which had been lost, even though I knew deep down that I would never recover it. Still, I had to try. And anyway, the path I was now on in my life was steering me toward such things now, almost like I was some sort of fledgling superhero, but without the cape or any mask. Or at least, no visible mask.
I had already spent the whole of yesterday trekking through the surrounding woodlands and hills in an attempt to find some clue as to the whereabouts of the missing girls. That search drew a blank. Now, I was standing on the west edge of the Upper Lake, surrounded by wooded hills as a mild breeze blew across the clear water of the lake. The air here was crisp and it felt rejuvenating as it filled my lungs. Nearby lay the ruins of an abandoned lead mining village where I had just come from after finding nothing there. Near the southern shore there was a small rectangular church known as Temple-na-Skellig, and near that was a cliff that hosted a cave called St. Kevin’s Bed, both of which could only be accessed by boat. I had a feeling the cave might turn out to be a hideout for whoever or whatever was taking the girls. I couldn’t be sure of course, but it seemed like a better proposition than spending another day trekking through endless woodland. As peaceful and scenic as the woods were, it was also bloody hard going making your way through them, especially since the weather was still fairly warm and stuffy.
As I didn’t have access to a boat, I decided to use my magic to take me the half mile or so to the southern shore. Raising my arms out slightly, I said the words to a Levitation Spell and raised myself a foot or so off the ground before beginning to float out over the water at roughly walking speed. A few feet out, I uttered the words, "Invisibilis factus!" This spell turned me invisible. The last thing I needed was for some hiker to video me on their phone as I levitated across the water. Next thing you know, I’d be on YouTube as millions tuned in to see the "Risen Messiah" walking on, or at least hovering over, water. No doubt Monty would find such a video hilarious, and would inevitably leverage it for his own gain, touting himself as the new Messiah’s manager or some such bullshit, and I’d be running around like the guy from Monty Python’s Life of Brian, screaming at the hordes of people following me that I was "not the Messiah!"
As I was amusing myself with this little scenario, I suddenly heard a splashing sound just behind me, and when I stopped and turned around, I witnessed a naked figure raise itself out of the water. The figure was female, and looked human, but I knew it obviously wasn’t. The deep amber eyes, long pointed ears and almost bluish flowing locks told me it was a water nymph. As she held herself perfectly still in the water, the nymph stared at me somewhat warily, but also mischievously. I wasn’t surprised that she could see through my invisibility spell.
"Hello there," I said. "Can I help you?"
The nymph smiled shyly, though I knew she wasn’t. Fae had a way of acting small and unthreatening, until they weren’t. "It’s not every day a human flies across my lake," she said in a girlish voice. "I came to investigate."
I nodded. "I’m more levitating than flying, but anyway. The name’s Corvin. Nice to meet you."
Still wearing her butter-wouldn’t-melt smile, the nymph moved around me slightly. "Nice to meet you too. They call me Nyxie."
"Nyxie. Very apt."
Nyxie frowned. "Apt?"
I turned myself around slightly to follow her as she moved in circles. "You look like a Nyxie, that’s all."
"Oh." She smiled, taking it as a complement. "Thank you."
"I’m actually heading to the southern shore," I said. "I’m trying to find some missing humans. Five girls. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?"
She stopped moving and sank down into the water until only her head and shoulders were visible. "You seek the dark one."
"The dark one?"
"The buggane."
"Buggane?" The word sounded familiar and after a moment I realized I had heard it before, or rather read it in a book. "A dark faery?"
"Dark, yes." Nyxie disappeared under the water for a moment, then came back up the other side of me, closer this time. "I advise you not to go to shore. Turn back."
"This buggane, it’s definitely there then?" I asked, gesturing to the nearby southern shore.
Nyxie nodded. "He is vile and nasty…unseelie."
"What did he do with the girls? Are they still alive?"
"Maybe…maybe not. I don’t know. I stay in the water." Somewhat annoyingly, she dived under the water again and came back up the other side of me. "It’s safer in here."
"I’m sure. How powerful is this buggane?"
"More powerful than you, human" she said without hesitation, not exactly filling me with confidence. "Powerful enough to kill you."
"Aren’t they all?"
"Who all?"
I shook my head. "It doesn’t matter. Do you know where this buggane hangs out? The cave is it?"
Her bright amber eyes stared back at me as rivulets of water ran down her face, her almost sparkly hair spread out across the surface. "The cave, yes. That’s where it takes the human females. Into its labyrinth."
"Its labyrinth?"
"Yes, it runs through the whole mountain. Those who go in…"
"Let me guess, they never come out."
Nyxie dipped further into the lake until only her head was visible. "And neither will you."
I shook my head as I sighed, beginning to think I should turn around and at least get some backup before trying to tackle the buggane, but I had come this far…
"How do I kill it?"
"Only with a silver blade." She raised herself up and made a stabbing motion at her chest. "Through the heart."
"Which I don’t have."
Nyxie frowned. "You don’t have a heart?"
"A blade, I mean."
"It does not matter, there is one on the shore, inside the ruin."
"The church you mean? How is there a sword there?"
"It is supposedly something the buggane likes to do. It leaves the sword for its enemies, knowing they will never be good enough to kill it." She tilted her head to the side. "Are you?"
"I guess we’ll see, won’t we?" I said after a moment, and then began to move toward the shore again. "It was nice talking to you, Nyxie."
"Wait!" Nyxie sped up alongside me as she cut through the water with hardly a ripple. Then she reach up and rather painfully pulled out a lock of her bluish-silver hair. "Give me your arm."
Frowning slightly, I stretched my hand down toward her and she proceeded to tie the lock of wet, silky hair around my right wrist. And yes, in case you’re wondering, Davey had managed to successfully grow me a new hand in his basement, much to my astonishment. His work was so flawless there wasn’t even a scar where it had been joined on. Davey also informed me that my new hand was much improved over the original, but I’ll talk about that later. "What’s this for?" I asked Nyxie as I inspected the band of hair, which was now glowing brightly.
"In case you find yourself in the buggane’s labyrinth," she said. "The hair will glow brighter the closer it gets to the lake here. It will help you find your way out…if you don’t die first."
I nodded at her last comment, knowing it was a possibility. "Thank you, Nyxie. I appreciate the help."
"I hope you kill the beast, for he has brought darkness down upon this
valley. Just remember," she added as she began to dip below the surface again. "The sword must pierce the beast’s heart, and don’t let it into your head…"
"Wait, what do you mean, don’t let it into my head?"
But she was gone, leaving me to hover over the water for a moment as I looked down at the lock of hair tied around my wrist, which despite the danger that lay ahead, gave me a strange sense of comfort.
It wasn’t long before I made it to the southern shore, my heart rate rising as I set foot on the wet stones. Immediately, I felt the presence of something malevolent permeating the air, giving everything a sinister vibe, including the small church ruin just up ahead, the place where the silver sword supposedly lay. I had the Druidic Dagger with me, but to use it I would have to get up close and personal with the buggane, which I didn’t really want to do if the beast was as ferocious as Nyxie said it was. If there was a sword inside that church, rest assured I was going to use it. I also chose to remain invisible as I began to walk across the pebble beach. Being essentially Fae, the buggane would probably see through the glamour right away, but there was still a chance that it wouldn’t, which would give me an edge.
As I came off the beach and onto course grassland, details concerning buggane lore began to come to me now that I’d had a chance to think about it. In the book I’d read years ago, the buggane was described as a shapeshifter, most often taking on the form of a black steed, but also changing at will into something altogether more monstrous, the details of which I could hardly remember, except to say that the more beastly form was made up of long, razor sharp claws and tusks and a body covered in thick, black hair. It wasn’t a pretty picture emerging in my mind, and I swallowed anxiously at the thought of having to confront the beast at some point. The only upside, if you could call it that, was that I didn’t think that bugganes killed the females they kidnapped, at least not at first anyway. Which meant there was a chance I could still save the five missing girls.