The Obsidian Dagger

by Brad A. LaMar

  “Why isn’t it?” Orilla frowned and stared into the distance, seemingly ashamed of the suggestion. “Isn’t it better to have the wizards and witches killing them instead of killing us?”

  Bartamus put his hand on the younger Sidhe’s shoulder. “Easier, perhaps for a time. The question would be: Why would they stop there?” Orilla turned back to face the older fairy. “The humans are going to have their time in dominion, as our kind has, and it isn’t for us to allow another to suffer. No, we will defend them because we can and we, the Sidhe, are a proud race that always tries to do what’s right. Do you understand?”

  Brendan observed the female’s features and knew right off that she was very frightened. He also noticed how beautiful she was, nothing like the hideous flying uglies that attacked them earlier. Thoughts of Nerverland did enter his mind.

  “I do understand,” Orilla acknowledged. “But, Bartamus, the humans are cruel and vile creatures. They don’t care for the Earth or its animals and plants! They don’t even care for each other!”

  “We magicks weren’t any different, Orilla. We had our time to learn and to develop our race. They need that chance as well.”

  “Which side will the Merrows be on, Bartamus? And the Leprechauns?” The young Sidhe looked despairingly at her elder and waited.

  “The Leprechauns are our cousins and they will side with us, but the Merrows are too self absorbed to recognize that their time is done. They will side with the spellbinders.”

  “And the spirits?” asked Orilla.

  “I fear that the spirits will follow the wind,” conceded Bartamus. “Their connections to this world depends on emotional beings, so their stake in this is only threatened if we all are destroyed.”

  Brendan looked up at the pair as they fluttered off into the air still conversing about the coming war. What did this all mean? Was he dreaming or was this something more? He didn’t have too much time to ponder the thought since the snow began to fall as if an avalanche had just erupted. He tried to move, but he became buried and could no longer move. He grew so cold that time itself slowed and the light faded out.

  The darkness was so cold. His breath was shallow and the freezing air burned his lungs. Was he really breathing? Is that what he felt, or was it something else? Spotty lights started to twinkle around him, but his vision was blurry and the lights were gingerly encompassed by halos. It was like looking through a pain of glass at the streetlights in the middle of a thunderstorm.

  Little by little Brendan began to force his eyes into focus. It was hard to do and it took an enormous amount of will power, but he somehow managed it. It was still dark and though he knew his vision had returned, what he saw didn’t make sense. The world was wavy and distorted. The sun’s light was sparse and seemed far away. Shadows moved about him in unnatural ways.

  “What is going on?” he yelled, only he could barely make out his own voice. It was like screaming in the pool.

  One large shadow was sliding in his direction and the realization of his location sent an elephantine amount of fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins. The shadow moved fast and smoothly and had a long tail complete with fins. Brendan pulled at the water around him, but managed to go nowhere. The creature moved closer and closer and Brendan turned his back and closed his eyes, bracing for the impact. When the figure moved past him he let out a breath.

  At that moment a new panic hit him. He clutched at the water and slowly worked his way towards the surface. He had to get oxygen. He had to get oxygen fast…only he didn’t have to get oxygen. He relaxed and realized that he didn’t need it currently.

  “Huh?” he said to himself. “No gillyweed for me, Mr. Longbottom. This guy can breath underwater!”

  He spun and tugged on the water and found that when his mind was put to it, he could not only breath like a fish underwater, he could swim like one too! Another shadow appeared in the distance and then another. Soon he was in the midst of a swarm of large, blurry, black figures. They all swam with purpose in a single direction and Brendan felt the need to follow.

  When the swim had ended, Brendan found himself floating amongst the shadows before a beautiful mermaid. All the shadows gave her their full attention and he decided to do so as well.

  “As you all know, a war is coming that will threaten the Merrow way of life,” the Queen Merrow began. “A new menace from the land has risen to prominence and they have their hearts set on conquering our seas, on ruining our traditions, and on plundering our inheritance.”

  Brendan could feel the anger brewing in the shadows. There was no noise of movement, but the water around him was growing warm, fueled by purpose and self-preservation.

  “There are magicks who are to side with these heathens from the dry. Our kin who will work against us under false pretenses chortling with the enemy contriving for our end, our destruction, our extinction.”

  Brendan looked on the beautiful queen whose eyes were gray. He considered the contrast between her anger and her appearance. The heat around him grew until it became unbearable and he closed his eyes. The next thing he heard was the water around him coming to a boil.

  The heat was intense and he had a sudden need to breath. He pulled down hard and made a path for the surface. He found it much faster than he imagined and sprang forth from the heated fluid to a hard surface. It took him a second to clear his eyes, but once he caught sight of where he was he wanted to close them again. The world was fuzzy once more and made him feel like he was hallucinating. He told himself that he probably already was.

  Bang! Bang! Someone was hammering hard on wood. That was off in the distance, though, and too far for him to see. The sound was deafening anyway and he covered his ears with his hands. He chanced a look and stared up at another strange being and sighed. “Should I be surprised?” he mused aloud at the sight of a full-on, transparent, haunted house-looking ghost.

  The ghost peered down at him. Brendan was taken aback. No one else had been able to see him. The ghost held one of its fingers to its see-through lips. Brendan took the hint and turned to spot another ghost across the room with a gavel levitating in its ghoulish grasp. The world apparently was now visible again so Brendan just rolled with it. His senses had been turned on and off so much he was left with no other option but to just go with it.

  “Please be reasonable, Conchar,” pleaded the ghost.

  “There is no reason in the situation, Kleig!” argued a man in dark clothing.

  That guy, Brendan thought was a bad individual to be around. Conchar oozed darkness. He wore dark clothes, had dark hair and fingernails. Even the whites of his eyes were darker than normal humans. Only his skin was white and it was such an unnatural white that Brendan guessed the man had been a shut-in for the last three-hundred years.

  “Magicks are not going to be pushed around by mankind!” Conchar continued. “The very thought defies reason!”

  “We have had our time,” argued a Leprechaun. “Why can’t you just go and exist in peace?”

  “Perhaps you are ready to roll over and die but the necromancers will not!” Conchar’s voice was raised and his tone dripped with venom. “Humans are not the next dominant species, my fellow magicks. No, I can promise you that their time will never come.” The dark wizard looked around at the others gathered and so did the diminutive Brendan. He spotted a Leprechaun, a Merrow, a Sidhe, the two ghosts, and this one angery sorcerer.

  “Are you threatening a war against the humans?” the Sidhe asked aghast. “The suggestion goes against our way.”

  “It goes against your way, perhaps, but not mine.” Conchar narrowed his gaze before he spoke again. “Hear this now, the humans will not be allowed to be the ruination of this Earth, this land, or the spellbinders. You and your clans are either with me or against me. And know that when you are my enemy my mind drifts to murder.”

  To the Leprechaun’s credit he stood up and defended his stance. “Then you have made an enemy of one of your closest friends, Conchar. The L
eprechauns will stand between you and the humans.”

  “As will the Sidhes,” spoke the small fairy.

  Conchar sneered and looked over to the Merrow for her decision.

  “Humans will ruin this world and my seas. We stand with the spellbinders,” declared the Merrow.

  Kleig slammed his gavel down again. “I wish there was some other way and I encourage you to find it before this war costs us too much.”

  “Quiet, spirit! The time for talk has ended,” Conchar said turning to exit the room. “The next time we meet blood will flow.”

  The room faded away and Brendan was left alone in the darkness with the ghost. He knew he should be terrified, but somehow he knew that the ghost wasn’t there to harm him. The hollow companion hovered nearby in silence. Brendan waited, but his peace of mind was growing weary.

  “Who are you?” he finally asked the spirit.

  The spirit remained impassive and still.

  “Are you the Ghost of Christmas Past?”

  The spirit smiled and raised an eyebrow. “You could say that.” The spirit moved its hand and the places Brendan had been floated past like pages being flipped in a photo album. “What you have seen are events from long ago and now you can do with them as you please.”

  “Whoa! Wait a minute.” Brendan “T-ed” his hands to call time out. “You show me this stuff and then you bail on me? Why did you waste my time?”

  “Time? What time have I taken from you?” asked the ghost patiently.

  “I don’t know. Am I dreaming? Did I eat some bad granola? I don’t know what’s happening.”

  “Brendan O’Neal, you have been privy to events not seen for centuries for reasons that I know not. Knowledge is never a waste of time.” The spirit floated and considered the human. “You have been chosen by powers that are beyond me.”

  “But…” began Brendan, but then he stopped. His argument was going to go unheard since the spirit had vanished. As a matter of fact, everything had faded and Brendan found himself leaning his head against the window of the beat up old rental. A string of drool fell onto his shirt when he finally awoke.

  Chapter 9

  Dullahan

  The occupants of the backseat of the car were sleeping peacefully. Lizzie was stretched out and snoozing like it was her comfy mattress from NYC and Rory and Biddy were laid out in the rear window shelf. The front seat was having more trouble resting. Brendan’s thoughts lingered on the visions of the past, and that made it hard to relax. He had just had some sort of strange encounter with a spirit, and although he had already seen some freaky stuff, the thought of a ghost still scared him. He also noticed that Dorian was having a tough time sleeping, too. She jostled back and forth in her seat finding no comfort. The view through the tears in the roof weren’t that calming, so he took to looking at her instead.

  Brendan thought she looked beautiful but troubled. It wasn’t her fault that she was a little stressed. Her father being abducted by a griffin was not your average everyday teen issue, after all. When her eyes opened and she looked over at him, he had an urge to tell her about his dream, but thought better of it. What would it matter anyway?

  Dorian stretched and squinted to see out of the windshield frame since the glass had been shattered and disposed of after they came to a stop. Brendan took the opportunity to start a conversation. “So, how is it that your father is a Leprechaun and you’re not?”

  “I am a Leprechaun, Brendan.” She yawned and arched her back to stretch out again. “I just choose to be your size sometimes.”

  Now Brendan knew he was a novice to all of this magic stuff and he was growing more and more curious about it. “But how?” He read Dorian’s face and got it. “Oh, magic, of course. How long have Leprechauns been around?”

  “Our people have been here for thousands of years.”

  “Wait, you’re a thousand years old?” Brendan’s eyes were wide and he was a little freaked by the thought of having a crush on a really old lady.

  “No, I’m seventeen, Brendan.” She chuckled a little. “We live and die just like you.”

  “If you’re like me, then where does the magic come from?”

  “The legend says that a great shadow fell over the world and started an evil and depressing era. After a bunch of suffering and when all hope seemed lost, a brilliant rainbow burst through the dark sky and touched the Earth. The light will always hold the darkness away, and in this case it helped to destroy it. From that day on, the rainbow has given us magic and power, and I guess a sense of protection.” Dorian glanced over at Brendan to read his face. He was interested and never once smirked or acted like he didn’t believe her. She also noticed his eyes. They were deep and hard to pull away from, but somehow she managed to do so.

  “Looks like Morna is trying to bring the dark and scary times back with her griffin and ugly fairies.”

  “Pretty much,” she replied. Dorian shifted her position and leaned her head on her seat’s headrest. She found herself staring deeply into Brendan’s eyes, and she was hating herself for it. Everything about the moment was tipping towards romantic. The stars were bright, fireflies were glowing, and a song she loved came on the radio.

  “I never thanked you for coming along,” she said.

  They began leaning towards one another, perhaps caught up in the moment, or perhaps fate was beginning to intervene.

  “Um, I’m just glad I could help,” Brendan replied awkwardly.

  They leaned in closer and closer coming within inches of the other’s lips. The moment was just about to happen when Brendan’s cell phone rang, lighting up like a police car in Paris. Brendan fumbled with it getting the smart phone out of his pocket. He smiled oafishly having had the near blissfulness of a first kiss with Dorian, the most intriguing person he had ever met in his young life, pass by with nothing more than a longing hanging between them.

  Lizzie sat bolt-upright in the back seat, groggy and disheveled, and asked, “Whoza? Whatza?”

  Brendan turned back to her. “It’s just my phone.” Seeing that it was his father calling, he answered with the push of a button.

  Oscar, who was lying on a lumpy mattress in a slummy hotel smiled at the sound of his son’s voice. “Brendan. How are you and Liz?”

  A fly walked across his nineteen-inch tube television and nearly got stuck on a large smudge of something that was smeared across the center of the picture.

  Brendan glanced back at his sleepy sister and shrugged. “Uh, we’re a bit tired. Where are you, Dad?”

  Oscar coughed and hacked for a few seconds. “Sorry, it’s really smoky in all the buildings I’ve been in today. I’m in Gilshery.” More coughs. “Sorry. I’ve got this little hotel room––well it’s more of a room above a stable–– but its home tonight. Listen, Brendan, I hate leaving you guys alone like this, but I feel like I’m on the verge of a discovery. I’m probably going to be gone a day or two longer than I thought. You kids haven’t run out of money yet, have you?”

  Brendan sighed in relief. “No, we’re fine. Don’t worry about us.” He was trying to ease his father’s mind about feeling guilty. He was also trying to convince him that he and Lizzie were perfectly safe. “Listen, Dad, I better get going. Call me tomorrow, will you?”

  “Yeah, okay, Son. I’m really beat, too,” Oscar replied. “Love you guys.”

  Brendan glanced over at Dorian and buckled under the possible embarrassment of telling his father that he loved him. “Us too, Dad. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  Brendan ended the call and checked the back seat. Lizzie, Rory, and Biddy were sleeping soundly. Their breathing was steady and low and they appeared to be resting quite nicely.

  Turning back to Dorian he said, “Now, where were we?”

  She was turned away from him, apparently not wanting to listen in on his conversation, but when she replied with only the smallest of snores, he added, “Um, never mind.”

  …

  Miles away, the ominous pounding of a big and power
ful black steed sped towards the sleepy five. The horse’s hooves tore divots the size of dinner plates in the dirt road. Its rider was more fearsome than the beast and any animal with half a survival instinct stayed clear. Death would have surely been their fate.

  Brendan had finally dozed off and was in the midst of a REM cycle when a shriek from the back seat made him jump. He dismissed it as being a figment of his imagination and turned over towards the window. It wasn’t until he felt a small tug on his ear that he fully awakened.

  “Brendan, wake up!” shouted Rory.

  Brendan turned his head and flung Rory into the driver-side window. The groaning that followed allowed Brendan to spot the ear-tugger.

  “What are you doing up, Rory?” asked Brendan.

  Rory collected his wits. “We need to get out of here.”

  Brendan yawned heartily. “We will. Just as soon as first light comes up.”

  “No!” shouted Rory. “We need to go now!”

  Dorian was now stirring. “What’s going on, Rory?”

  “Something’s coming, and it will be here soon,” warned Rory.

  “What? What’s coming?” Dorian was at attention now and stared at the small man.

  “Dullahan!” Rory exclaimed, fear rippling through his tiny voice.

  Dorian’s face echoed Rory’s stress and she fell to a pale white.

  In the distance, a horse whinnied as if it was Cerberus, the three-headed dog guardian of the Underworld. It was the most terrifying sound that a person could hear, as far as Dorian was concerned. Looking on the hummock ahead, she saw the disturbing silhouette of the ravenous killer, Dullahan.

  “You have got to go now!” she shouted in a panic.

  Brendan grabbed the key in the ignition and tried to turn the engine over. It sputtered and grinded but it wouldn’t start.

  “Start, you stupid thing!” he urged.

  Dullahan reared his horse back on its hind legs and charged forward. The black stallion covered large chunks of ground with each gallop and everyone in the car could see that the maniac was closing in on them in a hurry.