Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Twenty-three Days till the Global Unveiling of Bluetannia: The morning sun glistened off the tall skyscrapers and majestic castles that made up Avalon. Brigid flew above the cobblestone sidewalks, and watched as her subjects walked about busy in their own individual daily lives. In the distance, she could see the green hills and the majestic mountaintops that were covered with the purest white snow two eyes could see. Even the Griffins and Alkonosts flying alongside her did not distract from the beauty of her homeland.
Five minutes later, she could see her father Dagda’s castle in the distance and began her descent to the sidewalk. The castle was situated between similar castles that were occupied by Zeus and Ochosi. The structure was large and magnificent with ornate Gaelic architecture; placed on grounds that stretched for over a hundred yards from the front gate. The gate’s ivory and steel bars glistened in the bright morning sun as she walked up to the entrance, following royal protocol.
A slovenly looking troll was stationed at the outpost to the right of the gate. It was a tall creature with green skin, black eyes, and stringy white hair styled into a ponytail. It wore no shoes or shirt, though it did wear a loincloth that covered its private regions. The troll kept track of each visitor to the All-Father’s castle using a large book that sat next to the gate’s control system.
“Ma'am,” the troll stepped out of his outpost and quickly ran out in front of her. “You can’t enter the All-Father’s castle without checking in with me first.”
“Oh Gods,” Brigid groaned. “Do you know who I am, disgusting one?”
The troll shook its head. It then leaned forward and smiled a smile that showed more flesh than teeth. “I would love to see what’s underneath all that armor you’re wearing.” The vile creature batted its eyes flirtatiously.
Brigid grabbed the troll’s long green neck, firmly squeezing it as she lifted it off the ground. “My name is Brigid Ollathair, daughter of the noble All-Father Eochaid Ollathair,” she said as calmly as she could. “For your insolence, I could snap your neck in half like a piece of bark without shedding a single drop of sweat.”
The goddess then pulled the troll forcefully towards her, adding. “So, unless you desire to never speak again, I suggest that you let me in my father’s castle—now!”
“Okay. Okay!” the scared troll shrieked as Brigid dropped him to the ground. The creature calmly bowed to the goddess and skittered to the back of the wooden shack. “Sir, your daughter Brigid is at the gate!” the creature said through the intercom attached to the outpost wall.
“Send her in,” the All-Father’s voice replied. His voice booming out of the com’s speakers. The troll nodded and to the controls and pressed the buttons necessary to open the golden gate.
Brigid confidently strode up the path without a glance back at the gatekeeper. She looked out at the three fruit trees growing in different parts of the castle grounds. Their leaves were a bright green color, and the branches were filled with the finest fresh fruits ever known to creation. A couple of feet away from the tall trees stood one of the two family pigs. It was a massive creature that stood twelve feet tall. As Brigid passed by it, the animal was eating pieces of meat that were tossed to it via catapult from a team of workers down below.
Brigid arrived at the base of the castle’s front doors which was crafted using eight large oak boards aligned vertically. She lifted the cast iron knocker and slammed it three times. Moments later, she could hear a set of loud footsteps approach the door. Shortly after that, the door creaked open.
Standing in the doorway, in all his glory, was the All-Father Dagda. His dark beard stretched out on all sides much like the dark hair upon his head. His statuesque face gleamed with a mixture of sweat and the light of the morning sun. He was dressed in a white tunic which covered his rotund belly and drooped down to a few inches above his knees. He held in his hand a long oak club with a curved wooden ball on top.
“Brigid!” He said as the warm glow of father love filled his cheeks.
“Athair!” The two embraced in a warm hug, then made their way inside.
“What brings you here, my child,” Dagda asked walking the hall alongside Brigid. “Is it out of celebration or business?”
“Business. Dire business to be exact,” she replied as they moved into the living area. “I am sure you know of it by now.”
The floor in the room was made of a rare breed of oak trees carved from the forests of Dun A Ri. It gleamed under the collective light of the fireplace and the cast iron medieval chandelier. On the walls were hung crests and shields representing a dozen different Gaelic tribes. Near the fireplace stood two brown chairs that were made of dark brown, hand-stitched Kraken and a long elegant table that could seat about fifty.
“I should have notified you the moment Lugh escaped,” Dagda said, placing his club next to the armrest of one of the chairs. “I’m sorry.”
“It is alright, Athair,” said Brigid taking a seat. “Though I thought he was banished to the Neamhchinnteacht centuries ago after his attempt at the throne. How did he escape?”
Dagda raked his hand through his beard in contemplation. “Do you want a drink?” He asked, moving over to the cauldron placed next to the dining table.
“No, thank you,” she watched as he reached inside and pulled out a bottle of seasoned Athair wine along with a golden stein. “How did he escape?”
Dagda placed the bottle on the table near him. He then uncorked it with one powerful pull. “My hunch is that Charon was behind it,” he uttered as he poured himself a glass of the purple liquid. “Likely aided by Underworld sympathizers guarding the Neamhchinnteacht.”
“The Athghiniúna Spell,” Brigid said with an incredulous look on her face. “Of course! Lugh gets to rule over Earth and create it in his image. And Charon in turn would supplant Hades as ruler of the Underworld.”
“There is one flaw to that theory, my dear,” he warned. “The spell does not exist. It was a fantasy created by humans who dreamt of a utopian world. And even if it was real, Lugh would need a massive surge of energy to catalyze its effects on a global scale. At this point, humanity has yet to even come close to weaning itself of breoslaí iontaise.”
“Actually, Athair, someone has. Or at least has come close.” Dagda sat and focused on Brigid as she continued. “A few weeks ago, the government of Great Britain announced the discovery of an energy source called CV-220.”
He took a hearty drink of the dark colored wine. “Where was this CV-220 found?”
“It was in the Cautuvellani region of the country,” she replied leaning forward slightly. “They are planning to formally unveil it to the world on 8th June.”
He took another large sip from the stein. “What does this energy source look like?”
“No one knows for sure,” Brigid stated. “The best we have come up with from our earthly sources are that it is light blue and has a liquid texture.”
“Light blue,” Dagda said, placing the half-full stein on the left chair arm. “This reminds me of an old story your grandfather Elatha told me as a child.”
“Oh yeah, the tale of Jakub,” she smiled warmly. “I remember you told it to me once when I was a youngling. It was about a young boy who discovered a mysterious liquid in an oak tree, correct?”
“That you are,” he remarked with a smile as he settled into storytelling mode. “Jakub was hunting one morning with his father and other men in the village when he came across a wild boar eating grass in a field. He readied his bow and arrow back in order to kill the animal.”
“The arrow missed its target by a couple of feet and struck a nearby tree, causing the four legged beast to run away,” he continued, taking another drink. “Young Jakub ran for many miles into the forest after the animal. The other men chased behind him, wondering what had gone on with the young boy. He finally cornered the beast a half hour later behind a large oak tree. Jakub was certain then he would get to kill his first animal. He pulled the quiver back holding his arrow and let it fly.”
“And just like before, the arrow missed the boar by half a foot and struck the tree behind it,” Brigid uttered, jumping in playfully. “As Jakub dejectedly pulled the arrow out, he saw not sap filtering out but a—”
“Syrupy blue liquid,” Dagda chuckled as he took another big swig of his drink. “Nice to know your memory’s still strong, Brigid.”
“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I must admit though I have forgotten how the story ended.”
Dagda finished off the rest of the stein of wine and leaned back in his chair. “If I remember correctly, young Jakub took some of the liquid in leather pouches along with his father and the other men back to the village. While they were navigating across a treacherous ravine, one of the men slipped and tore their leather pouch on a jagged rock. Once it hit the ground below—”
He looked wide-eyed at Brigid who had leapt to the same conclusion. “You need to go!”
“I agree,” Brigid stood up and made to leave quickly. After three steps, she stopped and turned back to her father. “Before I go, I must ask if you have any idea where Jar’Ed is. I haven’t seen or heard from him in well over a day.”
Dagda rose from his chair and placed the stein on the table.“ He’s locked in a room deep within a place that is both even and down.”
She pondered the statement for a few seconds and nodded. “Thank you,” she replied with a smile.
“You are my daughter. You don’t need to thank me.” Dagda hurried to his daughter and gave her one last big hug. “I love you, Brigid!”
“I love you too, Athair,” she answered tearfully.
“Be safe!” Dagda added as they separated.
“I always am!” Brigid replied making her way out of the room.
***
As she exited, Brigid began to think about seeking help from the others editors for freeing Jar’Ed. On the surface, she thought, it seemed like the logical thing to do in the matter. But she was bound by responsibility since she was the one who sent him to acquire the information in the first place.
Her train of thought was disrupted by howling cat calls coming from behind her. She spun around. A gremlin leaned up against a wall, gawking at her. The creature stood a couple of inches taller than her waist. It had straggly white hair, black eyes, and gray skin with arms that were long and stringly like a spider. The gremlin slinked up off the wall and flashed a sparsely toothed grin at her.
“Haaeello, my red-headed älskling,” the gremlin flirted in a thick Swedish accent. Its breath smelled like a mixture of rotten eggs and dead corpses. “How would you like a rida on my kukhemm?”
The gremlin licked the lower part of Brigid’s stomach. Brigid quickly reached over and grabbed the small creature around the neck. “How dare you sully the royal armor with your filthy tongue?” She growled, throwing him effortlessly to the ground.
“Oh Gods,” the creature replied fearfully. “You’re...his daughter?”
Brigid smiled and nodded. The creature crouched down in a ball, cowering in fear at the goddess. “You are gooing to kahill me, aren’t you?”
“No I will not, wretched creature,” she replied, lifting the scared gremlin back to its feet. “In fact, I believe you may perfect for a job I need done down on Earth. If you are interested anyhow.”
“I haven’t beehn to Earth ihn over a centoory.” His beady black eyes glowed at the prospect of terrestrial hijinks. “Watt doos thees plahn of yours entail? Is eeht a hahrd plahn?”
“Not at all,” Brigid replied. “I was hoping you could put your unique skills to use to help me free my friend from Lugh’s captors in Downing Street.”
The gremlin’s smile immediately disappeared. “You wahnt mee too gaho aghainst Lugh?! Sorry, I mahke eet a personahl policy noht to tangle with shapeshifting deities.”
“But you are not going to tangle man-to-man with him,” Brigid said, attempting to calm the frantic creature down. “All you have to do is distract the guard humans so I can slip in the building.”
“I see.” The gremlin settled down and paced back and forth. “Wvhat is ihn it fouhr me?”
“Well, I have friends on Earth at the Port of London,” she said after a moment’s contemplation. “I can see that you find a proper ship to sail the seas in.”
The gremlin warmed up to the plan. Though kept up an uneasy appearance in order to get a better offer. “And when it is over,” Brigid sighed in annoyance, “I will see to it you are given the strongest beauty potion ever made.”
The gremlin smiled wide and danced a celebratory jig. “Yahou hahve ah deeahl!” The creature cried ecstatically.
The two shook hands, formally sealing the deal. A loud squish emanated from the middle of their palms the instant they made contact. Brigid pulled back her hand to find a gooey green slime dripping from her fingertips.
“Miy ahpoologies. Ieet’s involuntary,” the gremlin shot back defensively. “Iet hahpens whenever I ahm niervous.”
“Before we flash to Earth,” she remarked, discarding a good chunk of the slime to the ground before leading him down the sidewalk, “there’s one thing I must tell you.”
“Wahat eheese ieet?” It turned its head upward waiting for what she was going to say next.
“Flashing down to Earth can be harmful to those doing it for the first time,” Brigid explained. “The effects of it, though, depend solely on the physiology of the creature involved.”
“I kanohw. Ieet’s why mohst of us noehn-gohds use thaunder or cohmmercial eair wven wee trahvel to Earth.”
Brigid stopped a step away from the sidewalk’s edge. The gremlin followed a second later, standing to the side of her. “Alright then,” she said as she slipped her hand into his. “Do not say you were not given proper warning!”