“Normalcy,” Dorian mused aloud.
The small ting of a spoon against glass made her turn and look over at Rory. He stood on top of the table and continued to tap.
“I beg your pardon. Please, everyone, give me your attention,” Rory said above the noise.
The noise stopped and all eyes were cast in his direction. “I have an announcement.” He looked down at Biddy and offered her his hand. She took it and stood beside him. “I am proud to announce that I have asked Biddy to be my bride.”
The couple stared at each other lovingly while everyone else watched.
“So what did she say?” Brendan yelled out in jest. The rest of the crowd laughed.
“Yes, of course, you half-wits,” Biddy replied, tears in her eyes. Biddy turned to Dorian. “Would you do the honors?”
Dorian’s voice caught in her throat, but she managed to nod her head. “Of course,” she finally said.
“Great,” Rory pulled out Biddy’s claddagh ring that was passed down to her from her mother. “Well, there’s no time like the present.”
“Really?” Dorian gasped.
“Yeah, why not,” Rory shrugged. “You okay with that, Bid?”
“Janie mac! Fine idea, love.” Biddy wrapped him into a hug.
The villagers got to work and began moving tables and chairs and created a makeshift altar where Dorian stood facing the crowd and Biddy and Rory stood facing each other. Lizzie and Brendan stood in as the maid of honor and best man respectively.
“Villagers of Corways, humans, and Gnomes,” Dorian began the ceremony with a nod towards each of the groups. She took a deep breath. “Sorry, I’ve never done one of these before.”
“You’re doing fine, lass,” Colym called out, as he emerged from the bushes, his hat askew and his trousers threatening to fall to the ground. The others laughed and clapped.
“Biddy and Rory, you have gathered us here to witness your declaration of love for one another, and we are honored that you have.” She cleared her throat and thought about the other weddings that she had attended. “Here, before all of these witnesses, are you willing to enter into the bonds of holy matrimony?”
Rory and Biddy looked deeply into each other’s eyes and said in unison, “We are.”
Dorian smiled. “Have you prepared any vows for one another?”
“No,” Rory admitted to the delight of the crowd. “But I’m willing to give it a go.” He took in a slow breath to calm his nerves. “Biddy, I pledge my life to you from this day forward until the day of my death. Hopefully that’s not tomorrow.” The crowd chuckled again and raised their glasses in response. “I have never met someone that makes me feel the way you do. You are my dearest friend and my greatest love and to you I give my heart and all of who I am.”
The Leprechauns followed up their applause with hooting and hollering. Dorian gave the villagers a look that quieted them quickly. “Biddy?”
Biddy’s eyes darted between Dorian and Rory, finally settling on the Leprechaun who she was going to spend her life with. There was clarity in that; Biddy knew this was the best decision that she could make.
“Rory, I can’t believe that I’m standing here with you about to become your wife. To be honest, you really got on my nerves when I first met you.” The crowd snickered again. “But then I got to know you and soon I grew to love you. I have never met anyone quite like you. You are the one I trust, the one I will depend on and will support until my time on Earth is over. I feel very blessed.”
“Do you have rings to exchange as tokens of the endless love that you share?” The couple nodded and revealed a pair of rings.
Rory took Biddy’s hand and slid the ring onto her finger. “This ring is a symbol of my unending love and my promise to be loyal to you throughout my days.”
Biddy took Rory’s hand and placed a ring on his finger. “The circle has no end and no beginning and is a symbol of the eternal bond that we share.”
Dorian’s smile was wide and her eyes were moist. “Please kiss your bride. You’re married!”
Corways exploded into cheers, and the onlookers jumped to their feet as Biddy and Rory shared their first kiss as a married couple. The music began again and the feeling in the village was more joyous than it had been in a long time.
Dorian glanced over at Brendan. He was smiling from ear to ear and clapping along with the beat. At least they had one last carefree night before the search for Bibe began.
…
Brendan and Dorian walked back to Dorian’s house hand in hand. They chatted joyfully about the party and the wedding, but Brendan’s mind began to drift. He often thought about his father and what he must be going through in Elathan’s possession, so when they reached the front entrance of her place he kissed her good night and went straight to bed.
As he lay there he stretched out his mind, his only thought settling on his father. Brendan had no idea where his old man was, especially since Elathan stole him away to Otherworld, but he felt like he had to try and locate him, if for no other reason than to know that he was still alive.
“Come on, Dad, where are you?” he mumbled to the darkened room.
Then, as subtle as a beetle’s shadow on the ground, Brendan heard the soft beating of a heart not really knowing if the heartbeat was his father’s or something else entirely. His sleep was uneasy that night with too many questions still looming on the horizon.
Lub-dub…
Chapter 4
Ruthless Enemies
Morning came and Dorian and Brendan went out into the center of town to assess the clean up effort needed after last night’s party-turned-wedding. They shared a surprised smile when they saw that everything had already been tidied up. That meant they could begin their training earlier than they had anticipated. Brendan decided that working on his telepathic power was one of his major needs, so they headed to the edge of town. Using the power in town was on a have-to basis only.
“Crazy, huh, about Rory and Biddy, I mean,” Brendan remarked as he and Dorian made their way out to a field where the villagers had started making huge woodpiles. There was so much wooden debris after the Magogs attacked that stacking the wood seemed like the only logical thing to do. The villagers could use the firewood in the upcoming winter months, and it would have been such a waste to just scrap it all. Villagers piled the tons and tons of debris up, giving up the notion that it could have been done with any real sense of order.
Dorian counted the mounds and did some mental math to make sure the wood could be rationed out appropriately to her clan while she and Brendan were gone looking for Bibe. Having to leave made her feel guilty, but she knew she had no choice. Brendan needed her and she was going to be there for him. It’s funny that he was bringing up Rory and Biddy’s announcement, she thought.
“Sure, although it’s not really unexpected, is it?” she replied. “You go through so much with someone that you feel so connected with and then the idea isn’t far- fetched.”
Brendan glanced over at her and instantly recognized a look that made him panic on the inside, though he wasn’t sure why it did. “Uh, I guess so.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ready to tie the knot, but it does get you thinking, especially knowing that the end of the world might be coming sooner than expected.”
Brendan stammered and then Dorian took his hands into her own. “Relax, Brendan. I know you love me, but I also know we’re young and have a lot on our minds right now.” She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him. “It’s really enough for me to know that you love me.”
“And I do love you.” He smiled as he watched her walk towards an unruly pile that had somehow been knocked over in the night.
“Would you mind… I mean, we are out here to exercise your powers?” she asked, gesturing towards the pile.
Brendan concentrated on the wood. The pile glowed with a slight silver light as the pieces stacked themselves into several Lincoln log-like columns. He admired his work and then gave her
a slight grin.
“Show off,” she teased. Dorian looked around at all of the other piles, which by comparison looked downright messy. “What about the rest?”
Brendan closed his eyes for a split second and in a blink of his eyes the entire field of woodpiles mimicked his first stack.
“Your control has gotten a lot better,” Dorian complimented.
“It’s been a work in progress, but I saw what we’re up against in Elathan. Thing is, I have this feeling that he’s growing stronger by the second and I have no idea how strong he could possibly get.” He looked down and away from Dorian, the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders once more.
“Hey,” she said, lifting his chin.
“I cannot fail again,” he said. “There’s too much at stake.”
“You won’t,” she replied, hugging him tightly. “I won’t let you.”
He smiled meekly at her, staring into her captivating eyes. They told him to trust her and to believe in himself and his abilities, and more than anything he wanted to as well.
“Last night I reached out for my father,” he said, making a motion with his hands that weaved out and away from him. “I sensed something.”
“What was it?” she asked, her eyes casting an intense gaze into his.
His face scrunched up as he tried to describe it better than just a heartbeat, but in the end that’s what came out. “I don’t know if it was Dad’s or something else entirely. My gut tells me that it’s a little of both.”
“What does that mean?” she asked darkly.
“It means that I’m pretty sure he’s alive, but it feels like he’s seeking something… I don’t know, something that wasn’t meant to be found and that could mean that things are about to get worse than ever.”
…
Camulos stood by himself in the throne room with his back against the cool stone wall. The Banshees, the wizard, and the human struck him as odd company for Elathan. They were not gods. They were powerful for certain, but they were mortal. Gods like him were immortal—or at the very least nearly impossible to kill. It made him wonder why Elathan would want three Banshees, a necromancer, and a human in his fold.
“Your thoughts betray you, Camulos,” Elathan whispered from an unseen corner.
Camulos was startled and turned towards the source of the golden god’s voice, only to spot a pair of golden eyes floating in the darkness. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I know all that happens in my castle, in my Realm, Camulos, so you should know that I have my reasons for collaborating with mortals, not that it should be your concern,” Elathan hissed in a cold tone, his eyes like soft golden orbs that danced in the darkness.
“Forgive my curiosity,” Camulos replied.
Elathan’s breathing was deep and measured. Camulos still couldn’t see his master, but his presence was felt just the same.
“My followers have not been forgotten,” Elathan said. “We are still bound by the order of things, Camulos. I need to call upon your skills once more.”
“I am here to serve,” Camulos said.
“You serve for the betterment of your own situation, but no matter, the end will be the same. You are to go to Earth and retrieve the Sword of the Protectors.”
“You know that the sword is on Earth for certain?”
Elathan’s golden eyes narrowed at being questioned, but Camulos steeled against the urge to apologize.
“It is. One of my servants attempted to recover it, but possession eluded him.” Elathan’s eyes began to fade. “Don’t let it elude you.”
Camulos was left to ponder his thoughts alone. It only took him a moment to collect himself before he began to stride back towards the lake of fire, back to the megaliths of Tech Duinn.
…
Nuada pulled himself up from his resting place and shuffled over to his window to the world. It flickered more and more these days, weakening like he was. He supposed it was due to Elathan reconnecting Earth and the Otherworld Realms together again. Earth seemed calm through his viewer, but rarely did things stay that way in the volatile world teeming with such interesting beings.
Otherworld was interesting, but Earth was special. He recalled how thrilled he was at its discovery. There was so much potential, so much promise for a young world dominated by such a rapidly evolving and creative species. Nuada should have never let Elathan follow him there, but he thought he could control things. He was wrong.
The window flickered again like one of the old boxes the Earth’s people used to watch their television programming on and Nuada frowned. He glanced through one of his vapor-like walls at the beautiful countryside of the Realm of the Gods, Tir na nOg. The Realm was a dream to him, an untouchable oasis where he could never venture into again. He was trapped in a prison of his own making—somewhere between realms but closest to his two favorite places in the universe: Earth and the Realm of the Gods.
Nuada knew he had been a self-righteous fool. He thought he could sever the tether between Earth and Otherworld and trap Elathan in this in-between realm. The only way Nuada could do that was to also be trapped as he lured the evil god. His only contact with Earth came in the form of his most fervent protector: Toren O’Neal.
The old silver god felt weaker than he could ever remember. He was usually very aware and wise about such things, but more recently his memories and thoughts were like wisps on the air, hard to see and hard to keep. He decided to lie down and rest. It was harder to keep his eyes open these days. His thoughts, before he drifted away, were of his old friend Gioibniu, the blacksmith and the way he was before that deadly night.
…
Brendan shook his head to try and balance his brain since it felt off kilter and scrambled. “Wow! What was that?”
He spun around to look at Dorian, Lizzie, and Frank whom he was just having dinner with at Dorian’s house, but none of them were there. Instead, he found himself in the center of a strange workshop. The place was lit by the orange glow of torches and a fireplace. Brendan couldn’t say for certain, but he assumed it was steaming hot in the place since the air looked like it was sizzling. He was glad this was a vision and he couldn’t feel the heat.
The room was big, scattered with iron and steel tools and what looked like a forge and a cold bath. The place looked like nothing he had seen on Earth. There were too many strange artifacts on the wall, glowing crystals that were foreign to him, and a view through the window that was like no place in the world he knew about. When the blacksmith came stomping into the room, Brendan knew for sure that he wasn’t in Corways anymore.
The man had a large bushy black beard, olive skin, and too much unruly hair that had been twisted into a braid. He was talking to himself under his breath, cursing somebody as he crossed the room towards a large wooden cabinet. A second man entered the workshop, but it wasn’t until he had stepped into the light that Brendan recognized Arawn. He was bigger and more muscular than Brendan remembered. Brendan felt himself become a smidge self-conscious in the warrior’s presence.
The first man snatched something off the table and quickly unwrapped it, pointing it at Arawn. “Here’s the blasted dagger!”
Brendan looked closer at the weapon and sighed. That stupid obsidian dagger again!
“Relax, Gio,” Arawn said, his expression only hinting at the annoyance he was feeling. “All that pent-up stress and anger will be the death of you.”
Gioibniu, the blacksmith, was not amused. “Tell Nuada to take his orders to Wayland from now on. I’m finished doing his dirty work.”
Arawn’s expression stiffened quickly. “He must do what he must do, blacksmith.” The Celtic warrior strode confidently towards the forger, grim determination on his face. “So if he orders you to make a hairpin, then you better jump at the chance. Otherwise, I’ll be back to place the order myself.”
Arawn took the blade from Gioibniu and stomped away without a second glance. The forger ground his teeth furiously and kicked a barrel of water over.
The rush of water surged out of its container, free to spread over the stone floor.
“Blasted lummox!” he howled. “Return again and I’ll stick your head on a pig-pole!”
“That sounds a bit drastic, don’t you think?” replied a voice from the doorway.
The color left Gio’s face at the reply. “I… I didn’t mean… oh, it’s you.”
A younger man strutted into the workshop, his chestnut shoulder-length hair and his crystal blue eyes popping out as remarkable characteristics. He was clean-shaven and a bit of a baby face, but Brendan wasn’t fooled. Everything about this guy spoke of trouble.
“How quickly your tune changed, Gioibniu,” the newcomer said in amusement. “Pity it wasn’t Arawn who returned.”
“Quiet yourself, Camulos. You know I was blowing off steam.”
Camulos crossed the floor casually as the blacksmith began to pump air into his forge through the tuyere by stepping on a bellow. Gioibniu selected his anvil and began to pound a piece of steel, each strike releasing a small amount of mounting stress.
“What were you mad about?” Camulos asked, concern feigned on his face.
“Nuada and Arawn are monopolizing my time and my business. They think I only work for them, the stupid idiots!”
Camulos stood next to the forger while he worked, scratching his chin. “What have you made for them?”
Gio stopped and looked Camulos in the eye, studying his friend’s face. “You know I can’t say.”
“They take up all your time, drive business away, and threaten you if you don’t cooperate. What do you owe them?”
Brendan had a bad feeling about the whole situation. Camulos came off as more than a concerned friend, but the blacksmith didn’t seem to notice.
Gio must have thought it over because he said, “A dagger, some charms, three coffers, and some other things.” He waved it off like he didn’t want to talk about it any longer.
“What other things?” Camulos hissed coolly.
The Dominion Pulse Page 5