Read The Obsidian Dagger Online
Authors: Brad A. LaMar
Tags: #Warlock, #Celtic Knot Charm, #Celtic Mythology, #Obsidian Dagger, #Fantasy Series, #Scotland, #Young Adult Fantasy, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Witch, #Ireland, #Leprechaun, #Brad A. LaMar, #Sidhe, #Merrow
The Obsidian Dagger
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Celtic Mythos
The Obsidian Dagger
a fantasy novel
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Brad A. LaMar
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Copyright © 2013, by Brad A. LaMar
Brad A. LaMar, Author
balamar.lightmessages.com
Igor Adasikov, Illustrator
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Printed in the United States of America
ISBN:
978-1-61153-047-6
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise, except for brief quotations in printed reviews or as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 International Copyright Act, without the prior permission of the publisher.
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Dedicated to Lori, Evan, Paige, my family, and my students
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In loving memory of my Father
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Acknowledgments
I would like to thank my family for supporting me in the creation of this book. They had to listen as I bounced ideas off of them and rambled on about my mythical world. I think they only thought I was partially crazy.
Lori has been the ever-supportive wife who has been there through all of the rejections with a kind word and a lot of faith in me. It is a great joy and honor to have her by my side to celebrate this success. I would like to thank my children, Evan and Paige, for always listening to my stories and encouraging me to write. Gratitude goes out to my parents who have always encouraged their son to work hard and to have faith. We miss you, Dad.
Thanks are also extended to Sara Wiley for being an awesome photographer (and taking a decent author picture of someone who isn't that photogenic) and to Rob Probus for his assistance with my author videos. Thanks also to Lauren Pfister and Wendy Eckstein for editing and offering feedback on the manuscript and to Laura Brown for proofreading the final manuscript.
Great thanks to Igor Adasikov of Taimy Studios for the fantastic artwork in the book.
I thank the readers for taking a chance on an unknown author. I only hope that you will want to come along on more adventures with me⦠and I do have more adventures to share.
Finally, I would like to thank Light Messages Publishing and Senior Editor Elizabeth Turnbull for her faith in my work and in the crazy world I created in Celtic Mythos. She has been a joy to collaborate with and her wisdom is valued deeply. I will forever be grateful for the opportunity to share my stories.
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Contents
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Chapter3: Learninig the Legend
Chapter7: Flight of the Sidhes
Chapter14: Visions from a Ghost
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This book has ended, but the adventure doesn't have to...
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Prologue
The Council of Magic
In the centuries leading up to the Council of Magic, war had ravaged the Celtic Isles, tearing at the seam of reality and mysticism that bonded the two in existence. Man's reality knew very little about true magic, only scarce stories and small glimpses into that realm, leading to folklore and legend. Myths and figments stayed hidden in the shadows and were carried on whispers for generations passing from father to son and mother to daughter. The war for power grew too vast in the eyes of the council and a truce was needed.
This final meeting of the Council of Magic was recorded in the scrolls of Corways, Kingdom of the Leprechauns:
Last Meeting of the Council of Magic
Port Heggles, Scotland, August 9, 1732
In attendance:
1) King Duncan, Leprechauns
2) Queen Usis, Merrows
3) King Wardicon, Sidhes
4) Kleig, Spirit Representative (Overseer of Council of Magic)
5) Conchar, Wizard Noble
Kleig â The meeting will now commence.
(Without much waste the others quickly quiet themselves.)
Kleig â Duncan, would you be so kind as to begin our meeting?
(Duncan rises to his feet; he remains in his Leprechaun stature.)
Duncan â Thank you, Kleig. I am very happy to see that each of our kingdoms is represented here today. As you know, our struggle for power and position has left us all in poor shape and with diminished numbers.
Usis â âTis true! We are driving each other to extinction.
Wardicon â Aye. But how can we resolve our squabbles in a satisfactory way?
(Conversations begin, too many and too fast for this scribe to record!)
Duncan â I am posing the idea of a treaty.
Conchar â A treaty? That is your solution?
Duncan â It is. This fighting has gotten us nowhere. Our kinds are dying and the humans are⦠well, the humans are advancing.
Kleig â Advancing is one way to put it.
Conchar â The humans were the reason we began fighting in the first place, lest we forget.
Usis â Their ships are ruining my waters!
Conchar â They are barbarians!
Duncan â Regardless, they are now a force in our world and it has become increasingly difficult to conceal ourselves and our battles.
Wardicon â Duncan is right. If we continue as we are, we will surely be discovered and that would mean constant harassment from the humans. None of us could withstand that for long.
Duncan â My recommendation is to go into hiding. Preserve what little we have left and live in peace.
(Conversations again break out, mumbled and stressed.)
Usis â âTis agreed upon by the Merrows. We choose to hide ourselves and preserve what's left of us to live in peace.
Wardicon â The Sidhe's will do the same.
Conchar â Wizards and witches have no desire to hide!
Duncan â I think you had better. Do you not remember the witch hunts and stake burnings?
Conchar â Of course I remember that injustice! Had I but been there, the human retelling would have had a much different ending.
Kleig â I don't suspect that you wish to subject your kind to that sort of tyranny again.
Conchar â No, I do not. We will live among the humans, for hiding ourselves cannot be done easily.
Kleig â Then it is decided?
(The gathered concur.)
Kleig â This is the last meeting of the Council of Magic. Our kinds will remain to themselves. The bickering ends and preservation begins. Good luck to you all.
(The Council disbands and members go their separate ways.)
â¦
Conchar watched the other members of the Council vanish, fly, or spirit away before he walked to his carriage. His red-eyed doorman opened the door and lowered the step for his master. Conchar nimbly climbed in and took a seat across from his apprentice. The young witch waited patiently for her master to speak.
“The fools are giving our world over to the humans, Morna.” Conchar removed his gloves with disdain on his face. “We are expected to hide amongst them, never revealing our true selves.”
“Why would they agree to such stupidity?” asked the dark-eyed witch eyeing the hilt of a dagger peeking out of Concharâs cloak.
“I think they are tired of the fight.” The carriage lurched to a start and slightly jostled the occupants. “It is our own fault, I suppose.”
“The others are weak, master. Perhaps we should mount our own uprising. We have the means, after all.”
Conchar held up his hand. “Patience, my eager apprentice.” Conchar peered out through his curtains absentmindedly fingering the dagger. “Be wary of what you say, Morna. Our enemies have ways of hearing. But do not feel downtrodden, the time of retribution will come.”
The carriage rolled down the worn path intent on reaching the Black Forest before first light.
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Chapter 1
Blue to Green
Brendan O'Neal was glum. He was moody. He was not enjoying himself at all. Being dragged on a trip across the entire ocean to a country where apparently there was nothing to do except watch goats eat grass and pass gas was not his idea of a good time. He could have been back home practicing with his team or working and saving up for that â81 Camaro from Newark he had seen online. Tromping half-way across the world on the wild goose chase that his father had him on was not tops on his priority list of things he wanted do in the summer before his senior year. It didn't help that his sister was sitting next to him being her normal, irritating self.
He watched her for a moment, glaring at her and the iPod that had been annoying him throughout the entire journey. She sang along to every song and she must have had a billion of them, she flailed around “dancing“ in her seat occasionally knocking him upside his head. To cap it all off, she tried talking to him in the loudest voice that she had, embarrassing him and agitating everyone on board the flight.
After one final elbow to the ear, Brendan had had enough. “Lizzie, stop dancing!”
Lizzie danced on, oblivious to her brother's plea-or maybe she was just invoking her right to selective hearing.
“Lizzie, stop dancing!” he said a bit louder. When she didn't reply again, he snatched the headphones from her ears and jerked the iPod from her hand.
“Hey!“ Lizzie turned to her father who was sitting across the aisle and screamed, “Dad! Brendan's trying to break my iPod !”
Oscar didn't hear the spat between his children since he had his nose buried in a thick book about Ireland. He had bought the book in the London terminal while waiting for their connecting flight to Dublin. The anthropologist was a studious person when it came to understanding culture and civilizations, but the obvious sometimes escaped his radar.
“No, I'm not!” yelled Brendan. “I just want you to stop singing and dancing. You're getting on my nerves!”
“Your face is getting on my nerves all the time,” replied the spunky fifteen-year old. Her face was scrunched and her curly hair bounced as she shook her head in defiance. “Do you see me yanking on your face? No!”
Brendan furrowed his brow and held his face out. “I'd like to see you try. It'd give me a reason to toss you off this plane.”
Lizzie turned back to Oscar and said, “Dad! Did you hear Brendan?”
“Hmmm?” grunted Oscar from a particularly interesting page about holiday traditions in Galway.
“He said that he was going to throw me off the plane. And he admitted that he's a big jerk.”
“What? I did not!”
Oscar flipped the page and said, “That's nice.”
“See, Dad just gave me permission.” Brendan started to get up and grab at Lizzie's shoulders.
“Daddy!”
Oscar looked up and saw the whole ridiculous scene. “Brendan sit down and keep your hands to yourself.” He watched Brendan and his glower and then added, “Please act civilized on this trip. We don't need any craziness out of you two.”
“Why do we even have to go to Ireland in the first place?” complained Brendan.
“You know that it's important for my work, Brendan.”
â¦
A stranger watched the family with interest from three rows back. They were an odd unit with no obvious signs of power, but it was there. The stranger could sense it. This was a family that would be watched with great interest.
â¦
Brendan slumped down in his seat and stewed. He was angry at his dad, and his dad knew it. High school was winding down and he had a lot of work to do. The fall was going to be his big shot at earning a soccer scholarshipââat least his coach had told him that several schools were interested in him. But, was he back in the States working on his game? No. He was stuck on a trip to exotic potato country with his brat sister and nerd father. No working out meant no scholarship, and no scholarship meant no getting away from these two.
“Look, Son, I know what you would rather be doing, but let's face it, we only have one year left as a real family. After that you'll be off to school starting your own life⦠it won't be the same.”
“It hasn't been the same since Mom died,” Brendan shot back.
“I know,” Oscar agreed, pain showing behind his glasses.
“Well, I'm looking forward to this trip. Unlike some people, I think family is important,” Lizzie said, narrowing her eyes at Brendan.
Brendan turned away to look out the window. “What family?” he mumbled, tossing the iPod at Lizzie.
Oscar heaved out a concerned breath. “Brendan, this trip is important to me. It's a two birds, one stone kind of trip. You know?”
Brendan rolled his eyes and replied, “I know. I know. Your research for the university and⦔
“â¦and we're going to try and look up the old family tree. Right, Dad?” Lizzie interrupted her brother merrily.
“That's right. It's much easier to know where you are going⦔
“â¦when you know where you've been. We've heard it before,” Brendan said in disgust. Why was this whole thing so important to the old man? Who cares if the family came from here! It has little to do with my life now, he thought.
Oscar smiled wryly, “Doesn't make it any less true.” Oscar leaned over and patted his son on the leg. “You'll see, son. Ireland is going to open your eyes to our past.”
Brendan scoffed. “My past? I still don't know what my future will be!”
“I do,” said Lizzie. “You'll be a loser.”
“Shut up, Lizzie!”
Oscar interrupted the siblings. “Come on, now. There are clear skies ahead of us; let's not fight.”
Lizzie glanced past Brendan at the bright blue skies that they were gliding through. “You will probably never have a girlfriend either.”
Brendan thought about arguing with her but decided to say nothing instead. The scary part was that he thought she might be right.
â¦
In the churning waters of the North Channel near Islay, Aaron, and Mull, Scotland, swam the proud Queen of the Merrows. Queen Usis liked to traverse her kingdom alone when life became stressful and nearly too hard to handle.
She moved her powerful tail and cut through the water with the grace and speed of any dolphin. Her slightly graying hair trailed off her head flowing over her shoulders and into the water that she sped through. Her form was elegant and demure. She had heard many of the human sailors' tales about the beauty of the Merrows in this part of the world and the mermaids in others. Her sister, Berish, was queen in the Caribbean, married off by their father many years ago to unite the tribes.
Perhaps a visit was due, she mused. The queen knew better of the trip, though. It would be for pleasure and she had a kingdom to think of, so leaving was out of the question.
Above her head, cutting through the surface of the water rode a large vessel. Another fishing boat, no doubt. She swam to the surface, some four hundred yards off, to observe. Though her age was beginning to slow her in some areas, her vision was not affected. Neither was her voice. Once upon a time her kind would lure the foolish humans into rocks and shallow waters, but those days were gone. The humans were too numerous, and at this stage in time, they were also too advanced. All she could do this day was watch the ship from afar.
She observed as the ship cut the engine off and stopped dead in the water. A small group of men, red-eyed and deliberate in their movements, came to the side of the vessel and lowered a large net into the sea. Several things struck Queen Usis as odd. The men were few in number, to begin with, and they were dropping their net in the heat of the day. The catch would surely avoid them in favor of cooler waters and the cover of the depths.
She dropped beneath the surface to watch the net stay empty, but what she saw instead shocked her. The net broke loose of its tether and floated freely in the channel. After a moment, the net billowed out like a jellyfish. All of this was odd, but the instant the net began to move through the water in a directed path, she knew something else was afoot. Magic, perhaps?
The net's course quickly became obvious, so Usis dove as fast as her tailfin would allow her. The net narrowly missed her, but as she turned her head to find it again, she saw that it changed paths and pursued her once more.
She was a fast swimmer, but it became clear that she was no competition for the magical net. It clamped around her and encased her body in a strong fiber. The net drug her back to the fishing vessel, and the red-eyed menâthough living or dead she could not say for certainâpulled her aboard and packed her away in a thick glass container. No words were exchanged. No violence was enacted, only the box and a lid, and then darkness as they stored her in the cargo hold like the catch of the day.
â¦
The airplane had made a nice, steady, and smooth landing in the Dublin Airport and had taxied to a stop near Terminal D. All of the passengers gathered their belongings after they were told that it was safe to do so, and began filing off the plane. Lizzie, Oscar, and Brendan were the last ones off. They stood in the plane's doorframe as a family and soaked in the sun.
“Feels good, doesn't it?” Oscar said with a huge smile on his face.
“Uh-huh,” replied Brendan, pulling on his shades. “This airport is tiny. I thought Dublin was supposed to be some big city here.”
“It is, idiot,” began Lizzie. “If you would have looked at the website that Dad told us about you would see that this isn't a transcontinental airport. It doesn't need to be big.”
“Whatever, Liz,” Brendan groaned.
“What'd I tell you, kids? Clear skies.” Oscar sucked in another long breath of fresh air. “It look's like it's going to be a great start to our trip after all.”
Almost instantly, the clouds covered the sun and dumped hundreds of thousands of gallons of water from the sky. Lizzie pulled her hood up and sprinted down the steps and towards the terminal.
Brendan pulled his hat a little lower and said, “Yup. You called it, Dad. Clear skies.”
Oscar shook his head and watched his son bound down the steps. After a small sigh, he followed.
â¦
The dark stranger emerged from the plane and continued to watch the family. He took the steps, not in any kind of a hurry, and followed the rest of the passengers into the terminal.
â¦
Oscar came through the double glass doors and spotted his children shaking off the droplets of water. Most of the passengers on the small connecting flight were walking a short distance to the baggage carousal.
Grumpy and damp passengers congregated around the circular cone that the Dublin airport used. The bags shot out of a window that was fed by a conveyor belt and then slid down to the cone to the waiting travelers. Their baggage had yet to come down and people around them didn't seem to be in patient moods.
“Great. No bags yet,” grumbled a large man with a thick Scottish accent. The big Scotsman grabbed a rail-thin airport worker by the arm as the young man was strolling by and said, “Hey, when are they going to get our bags off the plane?”
To his credit, the skeletal airport employee didn't show any signs of intimidation and jerked his arm free before he answered. “They'll get it when they get it, now won't they?”
“Bah!” retorted the Scot.
Brendan smiled at the encounter as the employee continued his stroll, apparently unaffected, to join his buddies standing near a cute blonde that manned the gate.
“Dad, who knows when these yahoos are going to get our bags off,” observed Lizzie.
As if on queue, the skinny employee started jumping around and making donkey noises in the midst of his conversation. His buddies laughed, but the passengers only grumbled.
“We could be here for hours,” Lizzie continued.
“Well, then that's going to give me time to go and get the rental car.” Oscar patted Brendan on the shoulder and said, “I'll probably need some help driving on this trip, Son.”
Brendan's eyes lit up. “You serious?”
“Sure,” smiled Oscar. “That's, of course, if you can handle the power of the vehicle they give me. I already put you down as a second driver.”
“Sweet!”
“You guys hang out here and get the bags. I'll meet you at the pick-up gate in twenty minutes.” Oscar walked away studying the printout he had of the car rental company's confirmation email.
Lizzie and Brendan walked over to the baggage carousal once sounds could be heard from the conveyor window. Moments later, a few bags began to plop out and land at the bottom of the cone. A few people scurried up to grab their bags, including the big Scot. He ambled up, and just as he took his bag by the handle, a large golf bag tumbled down and smashed him in the face.
“Whoa! Did you see that?” laughed Lizzie.
“What in the bloody hell was that?” The Scot bellowed toward the crowd of workers.
