by James Somers
Behind Brody, Laish turned in front of Sophia, throwing a portal envelope around them that delivered them back to the surface at Redclaw’s side. He had known that Brody would want her kept safely away from any battle occurring within Shade’s throne room. She would protest the retreat, but she would also forgive her beloved Royal Advisor, Laish, after the fact.
Donatus did not retreat, but he also did not interfere with what Brody was doing. The attack was coming at the younger man alone. If he had to, the elf Superomancer would become involved more directly, but he knew that Brody was in no real danger.
Brody’s pent up anger over enduring recent accusations and insults from both Brian Shade and William Gladstone, back in London, erupted within the Leprechaun King’s throne room. The arrows in flight were instantly burned to ash—each of them scattering their matter harmlessly to the floor while the battle ended much sooner than any of the soldiers might have anticipated.
The sword bearers rushed into the gap between Brody and their king. Brody dashed at frightening speed between the soldiers, pausing several milliseconds from his blur of movement to slice cleanly through their swords. The blazing mercurial blade of Malak-esh trailed arcs of light through the air with each swipe before blurring on its way to its next target.
The Leprechaun soldiers were left bewildered but alive as Brody swept across the remaining length of the throne room too fast to see. He reappeared before Brian Shade with an airburst that sent the Leprechaun King stumbling backward onto his gaudy golden throne. The impact nearly toppled the gilded chair from its place on the platform.
“Father!” Shade heard his son Liam cry out.
When Shade regained enough of his composure to realize his predicament, the fiery mercurial blade of the Lycan King was hovering just above his chest. Shade’s royal guards were turned back toward the platform with helpless expressions. Their swords had been halved, the nubs of spelled steel partially liquefied and hardened again like drippy silver candles. Equally astonished, Shade’s archers had been left with bowstrings that had evaporated after their first and only volley. They could do nothing for their king now, except to watch in horror, hoping that Brody West would spare their master.
I stood watching the Leprechaun soldiers with Redclaw’s hand still resting upon my shoulder. Sadie and I traded amused expressions, accepting the overprotective attitudes of her parents and my grandfather in stride. After all that we had been through, after all of our training in the warrior arts, we were still treated as helpless children.
Sadie’s parents had disappeared within the small fluttering tent of the Leprechaun King with my grandfather and uncle minutes ago. I was curious what this king looked like. Tales about the Leprechauns were far fetched. While the Irish humans fabricated stories of the Little People for the rest of the world to consume, the reality was completely opposite.
I spied a fierce fighting force, wielding swords, bows and shields. Many of this army even appeared here without weapons—at least the kind used for melee combat. My guess was that they were actually spell casters. An army with at least three methods of combat. The swordsmen were up close and personal, while the archers could attack effectively at a distance. Even in closer quarters, a skilled archer could produce deadly results.
The spell casters were certainly dangerous, perhaps more so than the others. I was fairly adept at spell casting myself, as was Sadie. In fact, her ability with fire was the only real advantage she had over me in that area. And, though neither of us had the kind of power wielded by a Superomancer like her father, or my grandfather, we could still hold our own in magical combat.
Searching the ranks of the Leprechauns, noting their appearances and expressions, I wondered if we would have to fight these men. A sequence of events, many possibilities in fact, began to play out in my mind. If they did this, I would respond like that. If such and such became the case then I would do thus and thus. An entire battle ran through my thoughts, as I calculated outcomes and multiple scenarios.
Yet, we remained safe under Redclaw’s watchful eye, at the moment. The Leprechauns watched our thousands as another makeshift refugee camp constructed itself. Families arranged shelters and food began to be prepared as children cried for sustenance and shelter. There was no telling how long negotiations with this King Shade might last—no telling if we would be allowed to remain here in Ireland at all.
The soldiers stood in place. They didn’t seem to find us terribly threatening, despite the great numbers we had here. Instead of appearing nervous and on edge for battle, the Leprechaun warriors looked amused by our predicament. My vampire ears even picked up snide remarks made about us—lewd comments about the young women. In my mind I continued to prepare for whatever might come about.
Then the unexpected happened.
My uncle, Laish, appeared next to us. A portal envelope of his own making had delivered him here with Queen Sophia in tow. He was holding on to her as though attempting to shield her from something—protect her from danger in the place where they had just been.
Without thinking, I rushed out from under Redclaw’s protective hand. Startled to see Laish and the Queen coming back to us so suddenly, he had not even realized that his grip slackened momentarily. I had no way of knowing how to teleport to the place where they had come from. However, Laish’s portal trace still hung vibrating in the air.
I leaped into the remains of the portal envelope, applying my own power to reenergize it. This spiritual conduit could be accessed by anyone with the ability to identify and power it. My vampire ancestors had often employed such tactics when tracking Descendant spell casters, using their portal constructs against them, removing teleportation as an advantage for their prey.
The last words I heard from the refugee camp were those of Sadie and Redclaw crying out for me to stop. But I wasn’t listening to reason. Something bad had happened, and I wasn’t going to sit still while more people dear to me died. I took action with no regret.
My uncle’s portal construct delivered me to precisely the place where he and Sadie’s mother had departed. I appeared with my own sword ready and a spell upon my lips. But I was surprised by the scene I found when I arrived.
I had come to a cavernous underground throne room. This was a place where many Leprechauns obviously gathered with their king to feast together, toasting his power and high name as they reveled. The walls were encrusted with innumerable gemstones of every variety and color. They reflected the many torches that burned in wrought iron sconces mounted to the stone.
It all had a very medieval appearance. Even the garments worn by the many courtiers in attendance spoke of ancient traditions and customs that remained in place among the Leprechaun people. The myths often mentioned little cauldrons of gold that were highly prized and heavily guarded by the Leprechauns, but it was obvious that they had treasure to spare. Every one of them here employed gaudy baubles in their attire, and none more than King Shade himself.
However, for now, the gemstones and gold were all but forgotten. There was no gaiety on display in the expressions of the courtiers, and the guards did not look confidently stern. All of them, every last one, stood horrified by the scene that had just played out before them.
Courtiers remained frozen with mouths agape and eyes wide. Soldiers looked on helplessly with weapons that had been effectively neutralized by the precision and power of the counterattacks employed against them. My grandfather, Donatus, turned with a grim expression to find me in the spot where his brother had just vanished with the queen. On the throne platform, stood Sadie’s father, Brody. Malak-esh, the twin of the sword now owned by Sadie and the same used by father and daughter to release the cherubim, hung in the air pointed at King Shade’s breastbone. Fire danced upon the surface of the blade, reflecting in the astonished eyes of the Leprechaun king.
He was one heartbeat away from death and he knew it.
“Hear me, Brian Shade, King of the Leprechauns,” Brody said menacingly. “I did not leave Brit
ain to come here and fight you for the right to take possession of my own lands. That they belong to me and my people is without question—irrefutable. However, if need be, I will kill you now to prove my point.”
I watched in amazement as he spoke. I had never heard such a tone from Brody West. He was Sadie’s father. Always, he had shown himself loyal and trustworthy, faithful to God and his fellow man. But he had been pushed by this Leprechaun King, and he would be pushed no more.
Seeing his stern resolve and his power on display here in this subterranean throne room, a small part of me actually feared him. The soldiers and courtiers stood motionless. As rivulets of sweat trickled down the brow of Brian Shade, I knew he feared this man as well.
A young boy stood by the throne platform, shielded from the battle by another Leprechaun man. He watched as Brody held the mercurial sword above the king’s chest. His breathing was frantic, the heavy beating of his heart resounding to my vampire ears all the way across the throne room. This had to be the king’s son. Out of everyone in the throne room, his fear was for the life of the king rather than himself.
I couldn’t help focusing upon him. After all, I was also a king’s son. I had lost my father and my mother recently. The wounds were fresh in my mind. I had begun to wonder already if they might ever heal. I remembered watching my mother in Greystone’s infirmary, where she lay unconscious, terrified that death would come to take her.
Now, this Leprechaun boy was forced to watch and wait to see if his father would die by Brody’s sword. I felt sorry for him—empathetic. There was no doubt that King Shade had brought this all upon himself today. But for a boy watching as death looms for his father, none of that matters. All you can do is hope that mercy prevails.
King Shade’s chest rose and fell beneath the point of Brody’s mercurial blade. His eyes darted between the soldiers near the platform, the astonished courtiers and his terrified son. He was beaten. I watched as that realization came over him. Whatever outrage he had displayed a moment ago, before my arrival, was now transformed into utter submission.
“I will not contest your ownership of the lands above,” King Shade croaked, not daring to speak too harshly.
“Louder,” Brody instructed him calmly. Malak-esh never so much as quivered in his grasp.
Shade fumed only momentarily, his eyes narrowing on Brody’s before committing himself completely. “I swear on my honor as king to stand down my army and allow you and your people to take control of the lands above that you have title to.”
Gasps came from the crowd assembled in the throne room at this announcement. I couldn’t tell if they were morbidly curious to see their king die, or if they were so dense that they hadn’t realized he would concede to Brody’s demands when his life hung in the balance. Either way, a disappointed murmuring quickly ensued.
Brody stood down, the blade coming away from King Shade’s chest, but still remaining in hand. He walked back to Donatus, noticing now that I had come to the throne room to help. My sword was still in my hand, but I had not been needed.
Brody smiled at me as he returned from the throne platform. “Are Sadie and my queen safe?” he asked.
I nodded eagerly in reply. The man I had so long admired—the man I had never feared—had returned. I relaxed a little seeing his fierceness dissipate. Grandfather looked relieved also, though I wasn’t sure if it was for the same reason. Probably not.
King Shade had effectively neutralized himself as a threat by his statement a moment ago. The Leprechauns, as much as any of the Descendants, had a high sense of honor. The fact that Shade had sworn upon his, committed him to this course of action. His people would never respect him again, if he broke his kingly promise toward us. To be bested in battle was still honorable, even if it wasn’t advantageous. To give your word and break it—especially when you were a leader—condemned you before all as reprehensible.
Donatus sighed as Brody placed his hand upon my grandfather’s shoulder. “You should have trusted me,” Brody said, causing me to wonder what had happened between them before I arrived.
Grandfather gave him an apologetic glance that only they two understood. But at least everything appeared to be all right between them now. The last thing I wanted was some rift between my family and Sadie’s parents.
Donatus raised his hand calling up a portal construct of his own to deliver us back to our people on the surface. I couldn’t leave this subterranean palace soon enough. However, I remained fixated on the boy—the king’s son—as he clutched his father’s arm. The king barely seemed to regard him. Perhaps, he was embarrassed to have had his son present when he was forced to give in to Brody’s demands.
For the boy’s part, he simply appeared to be relieved that his father had survived the ordeal. He would not be left fatherless today. He would not know the pain I was living with everyday. I envied him that.
Before the portal enfolded us, the king’s son looked up at us. His gladness turned to anger in that moment. His fierce glare focused upon Brody, at first. Then he saw me staring at him. Our gazes locked upon one another.
I was relieved for him. He got to keep his father. However, there was only malice in his eyes. The hatred he now felt for Brody rested upon me as well. Guilt by association. He would never call me friend.
Adolf
Only six months had passed since his and his mother’s arrival in Braunau, Austria to live with Lucifer’s servant Alois Hitler. Things were not going well. It had happened again.
Adolf sat on a high almost bare tree branch overlooking the village fish pond. It was a solitary place situated in the hills away from the town proper. It might have once been a deep meadow, but rain had filled it over time. Now, it was deep enough to drown a man, if he didn’t know how to swim—enough to drown a young girl, if she didn’t think to swim.
He and his mother had only been in Braunau for three weeks when the first incident took place. Adolf watched the light rippling of the pond’s surface as a breeze blew down to them from the mountains. The greenish water had been perfectly calm five months ago on the day it happened.
Adolf had gone to the pond to fish. He enjoyed getting away from his pseudo-family. Alois was often home with them, yelling at everyone, trying to avoid Anai’s glare. The situation with all of them living together was far from ideal. How could Lucifer have done this to them? Other than escaping the destruction of Galidel, how was this beneficial?
However, it was still impossible to get away completely from his new family. Many times, Alois came, or he would send one of his adopted siblings to fetch him back to made up chores in order to appease his adoptive father. Sure enough, he was not to be left to himself this day either.
Angela, the oldest girl among his three new siblings—at age ten—yelled for him, coming over the hill into the meadow where the pond resided. Adolf groaned. The girl was quick to tell, especially if she thought her father would defer his wrath intended for her to another.
When she spotted Adolf, her hands flew to her hips. She paused on the other side of the pond, glaring at him. He sat there with his line still in the water, bobber floating idly on the surface.
“Father wants you at home!” she bellowed forcefully.
“Loud mouth,” Adolf groaned.
Angela began to round the pond, when Adolf did not start to gather his things to leave. She fussed all the way around the bank, coming up to him, still insisting that he obey her immediately.
“Father will take his strap to you for sure,” she continued. “He’s very cross this morning.”
“He’s very cross every morning,” Adolf said. “And he’s not my father.”
Angela didn’t acknowledge this statement. Of course, he understood that his mother’s spell upon Alois’s children kept them ignorant of the facts. They all believed that Anai was their very own mother, Klara. What had happened to her, Adolf still had no idea. Alois never spoke of her.
“You must come at once,” Angela said. “If you don’t, I’
ll tell him where you are, and that you won’t come home. Then you’ll be in terrible trouble.”
“Shut up, Angela, or you’ll be sorry,” Adolf threatened.
Angela’s mouth flew open, gasping. “That’s it,” she said. “I hope father whips you until you can’t sit down!”
“I hope you die,” Adolf retorted.
At once, Angela stopped speaking. Adolf had his eyes on his fishing line, the bobber trembling as something unseen nibbled at his bait. For a moment, he thought she had stalked away. Glancing beside him, he realized she was still standing there.
He turned, looking at her when she didn’t say anything further. Angela was staring into space. Adolf watched curiously, wondering what sort of strange behavior this was. He had never liked Angela, or she him, but this was out of character for her. She only stopped talking when she was sleeping, or shoving food into her face.
She did not regard his indignant expression. Instead, she slowly turned toward the pond. Without a word, she started walking down the bank.
“What in the world are you doing?” Adolf said.
She paid him no mind, walking calmly into the water. Her yellow sundress began to float as the water received her. She continued walking until the dress was pulled under.
Angela was submerged up to her chest. Adolf stood upon the bank, having lost interest in his fishing pole now. That crazy girl, he thought.
“You’ll be the one in trouble now!” he called.
Still, she did not regard him. Somewhere below the water’s surface, Angela’s feet continued to churn the muck until she found purchase enough to continue. Her shoulder length hair cascaded around her as she descended further and further. Then, all at once, her head dropped below the murky veil.
Adolf stood there for a moment, waiting. Surely, Angela would erupt from the water at any moment. Honestly, Adolf didn’t understand this joke at all.