…
“Where am I now?” Brendan said aloud.
He looked around and saw that he was in an octagonal room made from walls of clouded windows. Some furniture was placed haphazardly around the room giving the space no sense of purpose.
Suddenly Toren and Bibe appeared in front of him, both in ghostly forms. He was shocked to see them together but he was even more surprised when he heard their conversation.
“Is he coming back?” Toren asked Bibe.
She shook her head sadly and placed a transparent arm down on something lying on a chaise lounge. Brendan walked over and saw Nuada’s body lying motionless, cold and unmoving.
“I don’t know what exactly happened to him, but his spirit doesn’t seem to be within him any longer,” Bibe described.
“You know what we call that on Earth, right?”
Bibe shook her head. “He’s a god—an ultragod! They don’t just die!”
“It’s over. All is lost.”
The familiar voice spoke from the opposite side of the room. Brendan glanced over and spotted the more ghostly Nuada fumbling around near the frosted pane of glass and walked towards him.
“What’s over?” Brendan asked. “What’s lost?”
Nuada’s body pulsed fuzzily in and out of Brendan’s mind, moaning softly with each tremor.
“Tell me!” Brendan demanded.
“I am lost. It’s over for me,” Nuada said softly before his visage vanished entirely from Brendan’s sight.
Brendan felt as if his heart had been pierced with a sword.
“I’m not lost, and it’s not over—not as long as I’m still breathing!” he shouted before the room around him began to frost over.
What he had just seen brought Brendan more pain than he thought possible.
He could feel his body moving through the dense glass and into the ether. Soon points of light began to pop up in the darkness as he quickly zoomed past them. The darkness was replaced by thick white clouds. Once he emerged from the clouds he could see the city of Sarvaloo below, big and interesting with its mix of modern and ancient designs.
“Wait. What’s happening down there?” he mumbled to the rushing air making it hard to even hear himself talk.
The scene in the town’s center was strange. A crowd of immortals had gathered, standing in clear sections. One group appeared to be in a skirmish, and upon closer inspection he could see that Lizzie, Dorian, Frank, and the others were right in the midst of it. Something else caught his attention. A stage had been set up and Camulos was standing above…
“That’s me!” he whispered.
…with a sword in hand just about to bring it down on Brendan. As he plummeted towards the ground, the stage, and his own body, he could feel his anger building against Camulos.
“I’m not ready to die!”
Brendan sailed closer and watched the god lower the sword, moving in what seemed to be slow motion. Brendan passed Camulos’ face and saw the wild, murderous glint in his eyes.
A second later Brendan’s corporal self merged with his physical body, the sword plunging toward him.
…
Dorian blasted a rather belligerent war goddess in the face and turned just in time to see Camulos bringing the sword down towards Brendan’s throat, and all she could do was think about how her heart was going to die with him.
…
Just when the god of war thought the sword should have driven through the exposed flesh, the god killer came to a complete stop.
“What? This can’t be…” Camulos said, struggling to move the sword in any direction.
He bent down to see if the blade had become lodged in the Protector’s throat, but what he saw caused his eyes to widen, and for the first time in a long time fear crept over him. The blade was less than an inch above Brendan’s now-glowing skin, hovering, immovable.
Camulos about fell over when the Protector’s eyes shot open and moved ever so slightly to meet his gaze.
“You have to die!” Camulos shouted as he tugged and tugged on the hilt of his hybrid sword.
Brendan didn’t say a word, but rather reached up and touched the sharp and dangerous blade with his left hand, allowing his fingers to barely graze the metal and minerals. That gentle touch started a chain reaction that snapped and crackled from his fingertips and webbed its way down the metal pulling apart the god killer and the Sword of the Protectors, which had been merged into one. When the energy finally reached Camulos’ hand the swords separated with a powerful blast, throwing Camulos and his sword three blocks away and smashing his body through the wall of a building.
“Unbelievable!” Arawn exclaimed. “How…?”
Brendan looked at the Sword of the Protectors with admiration knowing that he had been meant to carry that sword from its inception. As he stood there he began to feel the stares of everyone in the area, including the fachen, who now seemed wildly out of place. Brendan didn’t say anything; instead he searched the crowd until he saw Dorian’s beautiful, dirt-smudged face looking back at him through tearful eyes.
Brendan took a few steps and hopped off the stage. He watched as the crowd parted allowing Dorian to run towards him. She stopped short when a fachen foolishly charged at her. Brendan reached out and snared the beast with his will and drew it back to his open fist. He grabbed the fachen by the fur on the back of its neck and held his sword near its throat, a snarl on his lips.
“No, Brendan! Don’t!” Dorian said pleading, her hand reaching out for him.
His head cocked back up towards her and she could see how his anger had grown; Elathan’s poison was slowly taking him away from her.
“Brendan,” Airmid said, approaching cautiously. “Are you ready for the pain and the hatred to stop?”
Brendan’s eyes shot over to the beautiful goddess, and her words begin to register. He nodded and tossed the fachen aside as if the ten-foot tall creature was a paper sack and then dropped to his knees. His sword fell beside him as if it was also submitting and ready to accept help.
Airmid pulled her flask out and opened the top. She moved slowly and confidently, softly singing a soothing melody. “Lean your head back, Brendan.”
He stayed frozen with his head down, his chin on his chest. She could see him fighting the poison for control, and sure enough, he tilted his head. Airmid poured a slow stream of the Purity Stream’s water onto his forehead allowing it to flow back into his wavy brown hair until it began to drip off of the tips. His breathing slowed to a steady, meditative rhythm in tune with her song. He knew that whatever she was doing, it was working.
Airmid stepped back when Brendan dropped to all fours, his hair falling forward to cover his face. He started to breath harder until finally he threw his body back and landed on the ground, panting from the final purge.
“Dorian?” he called out softly.
“Brendan!” she said, rushing to his side. She threw herself to the ground and brushed the hair out of his face. “Brendan, are you whole again?”
He sat up and looked into her eyes. He saw the love that washed over her and knew that everything was right again within him.
…
It took him a second to realize what had happened, and an even longer moment to pull himself free of the rubble, but Camulos was finally on his feet. Being immortal didn’t mean that pain was not a part of the fight, and Camulos more than anyone in Tir na nOg knew that to be true. He had never felt that level of power before. Not even Arawn had that much power.
“So the rumors are to be believed,” he said to himself as he stepped onto the sidewalk. “Brendan O’Neal is the most powerful of all the Protectors.”
Luckily for Camulos the god killer was still in his grip, and as long as he had that little miracle he knew Brendan O’Neal didn’t stand a chance.
…
The Standing Stones of Callanish stood cold in the burgeoning dawn of a new day, concealing ancient and powerful secrets from the one being who sought to exploit them.<
br />
Elathan took his time walking around the large cross structure, examining the smooth stones as well as the space between them. There was something special about that location. He strolled into the center of the megaliths and closed his eyes searching for some contact or entry point with the Crown. Otherworld’s power was massive and he was still learning what he would now be capable of doing.
“Accessing the Crown may leave me vulnerable, Crannog. It will require absolute concentration,” Elathan said.
“My slave and I will stand as your centurions, sire,” the Súmaire said with a bow.
“If a resistance force comes, then even you will be out matched and she is unpredictable at best. No, I have a better idea.”
…
Simmons’ unmarked Chevy Caprice rolled through three straight stop signs on the Syracuse campus with two very nervous humans in tow. Ken scanned the sky while Simmons drove the car and waited on Edwards to pick up the other end of a call.
“Yeah, Edwards, just calling to ask if any calls have come in, about… well about something strange in the past thirty minutes,” Simmons squawked into his phone. “Nothing, huh? Well if anything out of the ordinary does get called in, then be sure I’m notified.”
He ended the call and placed the phone into a cup holder.
“What are you talking about?” Ken asked after Simmons hung up. “We just saw something out of the ordinary!”
Simmons just stared at him and then shrugged. “Not the first time.”
“Oh, so now all of a sudden you’re an old pro at dealing with this craziness?” Ken said, before noticing something down the road. “Hey, what is that?”
Simmons strained his eyes to see but could only make out shadows. “Some sort of animal? Probably nothing.”
The car sped down the street and when they got closer they saw what looked like a group of large bats fluttering around a downed runner. These bats were massive with powerful muscles showing beneath their fur and wings. Ken was positive he spotted the same yellow veins as well.
Simmons slammed the car to a stop and hopped out with his gun already pulled from its holster. “Stay in the car.”
The detective closed his door and began sprinting towards the bats. The runner was lying in the fetal position covering his head with his hands. The bats screeched and dove down to claw at the poor guy, drawing blood and shrieks of pain.
“Leave him alone!” Simmons shouted, raising his gun.
One bat apparently took exception and changed its trajectory to fly straight at Simmons. Simmons didn’t waste any time in firing off two rounds connecting with the bat in the chest and wing throwing it off course into a bush.
He charged on seeing that the remaining four bats had made their move to land on the guy and had begun chewing on him. Simmons immediately kicked two of them off and used the gun to thwack a third. The fourth bat sprang up and sank its teeth into Simmons’ leg, knocking him off balance. He fell to the ground but kept his focus so as soon as his backside landed he fired directly into the bat’s face, which sent it careening into the side of a campus trashcan.
He heard them before he saw them. The other three bats had taken to the air and then began to dive straight for Simmons from above. He only had time to emulate the runner and get his hands and arms up to protect his head and face. Simmons nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a shotgun fire. He pulled his eyes free and looked around; that’s when he spotted Ken holding the weapon, its barrel still smoking.
“I thought I told you to stay in the car!” Simmons said, getting to his feet. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”
Bits of mutant bat were scattered all over the place, even on top of the runner who had been attacked. The man was either frozen with fear or dead since he hadn’t moved at all. Ken edged over towards the guy and knelt down to feel his skin.
“He’s still alive. Sir, are you okay?” Ken said, nudging the man slightly. “He is breathing, but he’s going to need an ambulance.”
Ken got up to make the emergency call leaving Simmons to pat his injured leg and wonder what other surprises the night might hold.
…
“Toren!” shouted Bibe. “Caoranach is on Earth!”
“How do you know?” Toren asked.
“My raven, you dolt. She just watched mutated creatures trying to attack Brendan’s human friends.”
“Still, there are a bunch of beasts out there in the world. Why does it have to be Caoranach?”
She looked him square in the eye. “These were just normal bats, but her evil was bathed all over them.”
“Then let’s hope Brendan can find a way to stop them.”
…
The crowd had yet to disperse by the time Camulos reached the square again. He wondered why they hadn’t scattered, the cowards that they were. He was just about to push past the crowd to engage Brendan but a little voice in his head made him pause.
“Camulos,” Elathan spoke. “You are needed. Come to me.”
Camulos snarled and stared at Brendan O’Neal holding his bratty Leprechaun Queen.
“Next time,” he mumbled as he sulked away.
Chapter 17
Cleansing
The crowd began to die down once Brendan freed Arawn and Argona from their restraints. Those who stayed argued with Neit and his task force about crimes against the people and how justice was going to be served, but Brendan and his group didn’t have time to get in the middle of any of that. There were much more important things to do.
Boann led Brendan, Dorian, Airmid, Lizzie, Frank, Rohl, and Garnash to Camulos’ stolen building and into a sort of boardroom where the council normally met and decisions were made. Brendan had already made one and he needed to get his team moving as soon as possible.
“Brendan, we have so much to tell you…” Lizzie began before she saw Brendan’s hand go up.
“I can imagine that you have been on a crazy journey, but our time is running shorter and shorter,” he explained. “While I was in my sleep I learned about something that I think will help us stop Elathan once and for all.”
“But, Brendan, I have some serious news,” she squealed.
“Wait, just for a minute,” he pleaded. “I…”
“Mom’s alive!” Lizzie blurted out. “And Dad went after her.”
Brendan stared at her.
“It’s true,” Frank said, offering his support. “Some weirdo with a mechanical arm was holding her hostage and—long story short—Oscar went after her alone.”
“What? How could you let him do that?” Brendan’s expression flipped from shocked to upset.
“He didn’t give us a choice, Brendan,” Lizzie said defensively.
Brendan closed his eyes and turned his back on them, slowly moving as if he was stepping through some invisible maze that only he could see. They couldn’t know that he was reaching out with his senses trying to find his father, knowing that his connection to him would be stronger. He could see his mind’s eye racing across the realm and traveling through the tether in a matter of seconds, moving from one realm to the next and finding nothing.
“They are not in Otherworld any longer,” Brendan said, his eyes still closed.
He expanded his search to go beyond the realms and past the Chamber until he reached the Earth. The sensation was strong, almost screaming at him that Oscar O’Neal was back on his home world.
“They are on Earth… oh no!”
“What?” Dorian asked, stepping closer to him.
“I can see that they’re back in the U.K. but they’re not alone—they’re surrounded by pure evil,” Brendan announced. “Elathan!”
…
Caoranach floated along an old worn-out path through a patch of jungle away from the set of megaliths. Another entrance to the Chamber was near but when she saw that it was a small barn filled with hogs, she nearly smiled.
“This is fitting for you, sister,” she whispered to the air.
She released her mutation mist
from her mouth and laid it out over the swine. Their transformation was almost instantaneous. The hogs grew tusks and had sharp thorns burst out across their bodies. The yellow veins came out last to complete the change.
“Go. Destroy,” she commanded.
She waited patiently for the enlarged hogs to bust through the fence and travel off into the distance before she allowed her feet to touch down and shake the barn to shambles.
“So much for all of your little rabbit holes, Morrigan. I’m going to have you right where I want you.”
…
The Standing Stones at Callanish had been erected at least 1500 years ago but the newest megalithic structure on the grounds had only stood for a few hours, having been created by Elathan. Lir had been the first of the Watchers to step through to answer the golden god’s call.
Moments later Camulos stepped out of the tether and onto Scottish ground.
“You look terrible, Camulos. Having trouble with the powerless immortals?” Lir asked with a smile, folding his beefy arms across his burly chest.
“I underestimated the Protector, a mistake that will never happen again,” Camulos said in disgust.
“Seems rather odd that a human could give a god as powerful as you such difficulty, don’t you think?” Lir asked mockingly.
Camulos cocked his head and leered at his fellow god of war. “What would you know of real battle, Lir? Hmm? The last I heard was of Arawn making short work of you at Brawning, yet here I am still standing, and a free god at that.”
Lir’s expression hardened and he grasped the corpse trident a little tighter. “Those are strong words. Be sure you can put something behind them.”
Camulos pulled his god killer from his hip and held it up. “I’m quite sure.”
They stared at each other momentarily, the tension palpable.
“Calm yourselves, fools. You are here to stand watch so that I can access the Crown. After that, you are welcome to kill each other.” Elathan glowered at both of the war gods before he turned back to continue examining the stones.
Lir lowered his trident and began to strut past the younger war god. He paused once they stood side by side. “There will come a day, Camulos, when I will be laughing at your demise.”
The Bloodline Inheritance Page 20