Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Prelude
The nine fifteen coach to Cork started to move off before the old man had found his way
to his seat, causing him to stumble. He grabbed one of the seats to steady himself and
soldiered on, apologising to a woman he bumped into and smiling at two small children while
on his way. A number of the passengers recoiled subconsciously as he passed, more than one
with looks of disdain on their faces. It was an unfortunate fact of life for passengers on this
route to have to endure unwashed hippies and the occasional drunkard who had spent his
pension in the pub. Their reason for feeling such about this particular passenger was the
manner of his attire. He was wearing an ancient cloak, a little tatty, and of indeterminate
colour, which was held in place by a gold clasp. This in itself was unusual as it was a bright
morning, and it was by no means cold, but allied with his long silver hair and stout shape, he
did not conform to the normal pensioner stereotype. In addition, rather than the expected
stench of dried urine and booze, he left behind him a fragrant odour of meadow flowers and
summer fruits.
He eventually found his way to the back row of seats, and the coach had stopped at the
next stop by the time he sat down. He rested a strange misshapen cane beside him. It was
narrow at the top, but grew quite wide toward the bottom, tapering to a point at the end. This
stop was going to take some time, as the driver disembarked and went to talk to an official
outside, so the old man looked absent-mindedly out of the window. He paid no attention to
the several passengers, mainly women, who were stealing furtive glances down the rear
toward him. Having reassured themselves that he was not a smelly tramp, they were now
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recollecting the look on his face and his flashing blue eyes, something that belied his obvious
years.
The old man turned his head back from enjoying the sunshine-bathed scenery outside to
see three small children standing in the aisle in front of him. All were aged between three and
five, the tallest a boy and the other two, girls. They were conversing among themselves,
looking shyly in his direction. It seemed they were trying to figure out who was going to
‘Excuse me, Mister. Are you Santa Claus?’ the tallest of the three asked. All looked eager,
He smiled broadly, reached his hands under his cloak, and leant forward conspiratorially.
‘What?’ the tall boy asked again, confused. The other two looked awestruck.
‘Santa Claus but comes here every Christmas……’ the old man looked each of them in the
With a flourish, the old man pulled a large purple flower and gave it to the smallest girl,
who gave a little whimper of glee and beamed with gratitude. He then cupped one hand on
top of the other, and opened them carefully in front of the middle child, revealing a tiny field
mouse. It sat up, perfectly at ease in the old man’s hand, and happily allowed itself to be
transferred to the eager hands of the second girl. With minimal hesitation, the old man then
looked at the boy with a glint in his eye. He had his hands cupped again, and motioned for the
boy to slide his hands in through the cupped hands. The boy’s eyes opened wide as he did so,
the old man opening his hands to allow the boy to show he was holding a small goldfinch.
The bird was not panicking – it looked more like it was putting on a performance on the
boy’s finger, delicate green and gold wings fluttering, complementing the rich red and white
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Nobody had noticed that the small group had attracted an audience. The two mothers of
the children had noticed them talking to the old man, and were naturally concerned. They
were standing in the aisle, about to call to him when he noticed them, stood up, and bowed
‘Good morning, ladies. You have some lovely children here….’ he said with quiet
authority. Any objections they may have had to the old man speaking to their young children
evaporated as the women were entranced by the presence of the old man. While clearly well
into middle age, and somewhat substantial in frame, he had a strangely alluring, compelling
air about him. Both women locked on to his eyes, smiling coyly, perhaps a little flirtatiously.
Neither of them spoke, both seemingly lost for words, but the impasse was broken by the
coach starting to move once more, causing all to lose their balance.
All having returned to their seats, the coach continued its journey, while the old man
reclined in his seat, a contented look on his face. He resumed looking out of the window,
watching the world go by outside. Soon it was time for his stop. He rose and strode carefully
to the front of the coach, his presence notifying the driver of the need to stop. Disembarked
and standing in the sunshine, he felt the heat of the sun, and flicked the ends of the cloak over
his shoulders, so it was hanging down his back. It revealed a simple cotton tunic underneath,
He strode purposefully across the road, and followed one of the laneways facing him,
passing by an Estate Agent’s sign with a Sold marker on it. The laneway led to the shore.
Passing by slightly overgrown shrubbery and hedging plants, he soon found himself walking
on a pebble beach. He looked out to sea, admiring the tree-lined harbour and the small tree
adorned island slightly to the right of centre. The tide was high and there were no signs of
life, making the whole scene feel serene. Suddenly there was a small disturbance in the water,
and the old man found himself looking for the cause. Three small canine-like heads appeared
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in the water, not twenty feet from the shore, frolicking. The seals, whiskers twitching, hurried
to shore. By the time they had waddled their way out of the water, the old man had sat down
at the waterline, waiting for them. As expected, they came to a halt beside him, and greeted
Before long, the conversation had ended. The old man stood up, using his strange cane for
support, and turned his gaze inland. Directly in front of him was a large house, built on a
rocky outcrop, about forty feet away. Part of the house was entirely glazed, affording its
occupants a generous view out over the harbour. The land between the shore and the house
had not been tended in some time, the shrubs overgrown and the lawn a grassy meadow,
subdivided by a stone path and steps from top to bottom. Following a brief look back toward
the shore, the old man started on the path up toward the house, using his cane to hold off the
invading shrubbery.
At the top of the outcrop, he moved to his right and entered an area of what looked like
solidified lava, populated primarily by gorse bushes. He picked his way carefully among the
thorny bushes, and then stopped suddenly, looking down at the ground. In front of him was
an almost circular area of smooth glass-like lava. It was greenish in colour and looked
opaque. Kneeling down, the old man put his eye to the ground, as if trying to look through
the ground. He snorted with satisfaction, and stood up, clearly pleased with his work. He then
pressed his cane on the ground and twisted it, waiting for a faint cracking sound. Moving
around the circular area, he repeated the action with the stick, until he had performed a full
revolution.
His job clearly done, the old man relaxed as he made his way down the path toward the
shore once more. He sat on the wall between the beach and the property this time,
contemplating what came to cause his visit to this particular piece of rockery. The legend had
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1. The Hunt
The rain was teeming early in the afternoon; the dark grey sky and the low and angry
clouds indicated that there would be no let up in the weather anytime soon. Many of the fields
in the area were flooded due to the week-long downpour, which had also impacted upon the
plans of the army now camped there. A lone commander braved the torrent as he walked
The sixty or so tents were holding firm in the stiff breeze, and holding out most of the
driving rain, which allowed the army to get a decent night’s sleep after the long march the
day before. A flag bearing the Order’s colours flapped forlornly in the rain, still mounted on
the Christian cross in the centre of the camp. As he entered his tent, the commander pulled at
the chain mail armour he was wearing. It had grown very heavy over the months of the
campaign, and the surcoat that covered his armour had grown tatty. The Order’s colours, the
original rich cobalt blue cross on front and back had now faded to pale lavender grey, which
also mirrored the recent history of the Order of St Augustine, and the humour of their leaders
The morale of the army had been waning after the many battles fought over the last six
weeks, and the majority of the Order’s horses had succumbed to lameness due to the weather
and the oversupply of rich grass. Many were eager for an end to their campaign, so they
could return to their farms and their families, who had suffered severe hardship when their
grown men had been pressed into action against their will. The knights, mainly minor nobles,
had volunteered, having been recruited into the Order due to their skills or for their ability to
bring footmen and infantry to the cause. The Bishops and clergy had actively recruited
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Christian armies in order to enforce the doctrine of the Holy Roman Catholic Church among
the masses, and were prepared to use whatever means at their disposal, including offering
eternal salvation and inclusion in crusades to the Holy Land to those who fought and brought
knights and men. As with all walks of life, some volunteers were more committed than
The commander, now joined by his aide, then exited the tent to check if the men had been
mobilised to commence the battle once prayers were finished, and waited outside to listen to
You shall cross the barren desert, but you shall not die of thirst
You shall wander far in safety though you do not know the way
You shall speak your words in foreign lands, all will understand
If you pass through raging waters in the sea you shall not drown
If you walk amid the burning flames, you shall not be harmed
If you stand before the power of hell and death is at your side
A grim smile starting to broaden on his face, the commander then turned to the rear of the
camp. Where the main camp was dark and drenched, this section was surrounded by flaming
torches and, though it was raining, it felt warm. That was due to the one lone occupant of this
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area. The main troops were terrified to enter this area, but the commander was relaxed as he
****
In the meantime, things were not going so well in the opposing camp. An argument had
started in a small tower of a rustic stone house on the western island of Mon, a place that
would soon become known as Holy Island. It was among two men, both simply dressed with
dark cloaks but who seemed to occupy the entire room with their personalities, such was the
intensity of their feelings. The taller one, a man who looked about fifty, with thinning grey
hair and soft careworn features, was known as Cathbad. He had a reassuring hand on the
other man’s shoulder. The other man, Lochru, was much shorter, and looked younger, with a
square face on broad shoulders. His pudding bowl haircut gave him the look of a youthful
monk; such a comparison guaranteed to draw gales of laughter from the wearer. Lochru and
‘You saw the old hag at the river, Cathbad,’ Lochru said loudly, concern written on the
‘Yes, of course’, Cathbad sighed, conflicted. ‘But I know she is with us this time.
‘But Morrigan is only interested in blood – the more of it spilt the better,’ urged Lochru.
‘She is loyal to nobody other than herself, and the fewer of our people that get in her way the
better.…’ he trailed off and looked out the window of the tower room. He peered through the
pelting rain at the advancing troops of the Christian army in the distance, approaching the
bridge.
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He could just make out the blackening horde through the smoke from the many camps that
had been set up by the clans and tribes that were also running from the Order’s armies. There
were at least five thousand people gathered on the small basalt rock formation jutting out on
the edge of the sea. The majority of them were Welsh and Irish Celts, some Scots, some Old
Saxon tribes that still resisted the advancing imposition of the Catholic Church. Of them,
there were no more than eight hundred men of fighting age, the rest being infirm, or women
and children. There were no defences to hold back the Order’s army – once they crossed the
bridge to the Island, there was little of the landscape that could be used to defend the
occupants. Cathbad had refused to let them burn the bridge as they could cross to the island at
‘We must prepare ourselves, Lochru,’ Cathbad suggested, indicating toward the haggard
crowd below them who had committed their future and protection to the two men. ‘We have
a formidable task ahead of us. We have to protect our peoples and will need to have our wits
about us.’
‘Ah…… I think we will need your water tricks shortly. Can you see what they have…?’
‘God of Gods, Spirit of Dagda, I thought they had killed them all! Now they have one as a
pet?’
It was not just Lochru and Cathbad that had turned their heads to look in the direction of
the approaching armies. The gentle hum of noise from the camps outside had suddenly gone
quiet as all had turned to look in the air above the armies.
About fifty feet above the ground, it flew over the bridge toward the camp. Its wings, dark
green or black depending on the light, were bat-like with two-toed talons at the bend, and
were nearly touching the ground with each flap, so large was the dragon. It was an
immaculate specimen, in excess of thirty feet long, with one single row of spines from head
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to tail, twin crimson forward-pointing horns on the head that looked like they could spear an
elephant, sharp angular red coloured eyes over the massive open jaws, armed with rows of
sharp teeth. The four powerful legs ended in impressive four-toed talons. The tail looked like
it had been honed on a sword-maker’s grindstone, so sharp was it. Most magnificent was the
sheer grace with which it opened its mouth and let flow a stream of white gold flames that
‘That was Arthur’s beast, Gortaeus,’ Cathbad called over the screams of panic below, as
he reached for his talismans and his divining willows. ‘I was sure he remained with Arthur’s
family when he was taken to Avalon. What sort of hold on him do they have, to get the beast
to obey them? Lochru?’ Cathbad turned to his friend, as he had not replied to him, and saw
Lochru turned to him with a look of resignation on his face, holding his favoured ogham
stone that had become his constant companion during their battles over the last few months.
‘I will be killed today, my friend. I will help you until it happens. Thank you for your
‘Don’t let it be eight hundred years again until next time; my life will be tedious without
your company,’ Cathbad replied, embracing him tightly. They then both simultaneously
closed their eyes and held their talismans in their hands, as the dragon flew overhead bringing
****
The Order leader calmly supervised the proceedings using an eye piece that allowed him a
magnified view of the scene. He was looking at what looked like an inferno covering the
whole island, but looked concerned. Where the flames were dying off, it became apparent
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that there was some form of a dome of water floating over the camp. Visibility was getting
worse. The steam from the evaporated water was engulfing the island in a fog-like vapour.
While the leader remained calm, his aide was apoplectic, spitting in anger. He was
visibly shaking, his wild gesticulations showing his intent. Ranting with fury, spittle drooling
down his chin, he then blessed himself several times as he headed back to check the ground
The Order leader continued to observe his close-up view of the leaders of the enemy, and
trying to work out how to separate them from their powers in order to defeat them. He was
looking into the building that he knew housed Cathbad and Lochru. And could see two men,
eyes closed, floating in mid-air, chanting. The shorter, broader one was clearly holding what
appeared to be a small stone with markings on it. It was obvious that these were the main
obstacles to success.
The Order leader put down his eyeglass quickly, grabbed hold of his aide’s shoulder, and
imparted instructions. Mood much improved, the aide hurried off, and the leader returned to
his eyeglass.
****
Meanwhile, the dragon Gortaeus continued to circle the island camp, belching fire
continuously. As the fog rose, it became more difficult for him to see his quarry, but he could
see that he was having little impact; such was the veil of water separating them. He knew
failure to obey the Order’s armies would result in the death of his master William, currently
captive somewhere he could not locate, and the dishonour of which would invariably lead to
his own death. He had given his solemn vow to his ancestor Arthur centuries before, before
he was taken to Avalon, to protect his family for as long as he lived. He had done so dutifully
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for many generations, but now and all his efforts to find William had resulted in abject
failure, leaving him a slave to the Order. As the combination of fear and anger rose,
Gortaeus’s bile erupted. The flames from his mouth grew further, his size also growing
correspondingly, his facial features, horns and spines also becoming more pronounced.
****
Cathbad and Lochru were still suspended in mid-air in the room. Their eyes remaining
closed, they continued to chant. Lochru continued to finger his stone talisman
subconsciously. Neither noticed the two Order soldiers enter the room. The first man stood
behind Cathbad, while the second approached Lochru to the front. Nodding in unison, the
second man struck at Lochru’s talisman hand with his sword, while the first came at
Cathbad’s head with his. On strike, Lochru’s severed hand fell to the floor with his talisman
stone falling loose, however the first man’s sword broke in two upon hitting Cathbad’s neck.
The chanting stopped immediately, Lochru falling forward in pain, only to present his
exposed neck as an inviting target to the Order soldier to finish his job.
Cathbad was less easy to deal with. He had given himself the insurance of a protection
charm prior to going into his chant to funnel the water to protect them from the dragon. Now
he was to apply his full attention to the two Order soldiers that had infiltrated the camp. He
raised his hands, called to the stone in the walls of the house for help, and several stones
came loose and shot at the two at such pace that they died instantly. Cathbad then gathered
Down in the camp, panic started to rise. They had seen the veil of water that was
protecting them drop, and immediately looked toward the tower room that housed the druids.
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They had also seen Cathbad deal with the two intruders, but seeing the fog beginning to clear,
As Cathbad strode down from the tower room to talk with the clan chieftains, the old hag
he had seen at the river earlier was walking toward him, with a stride that belied her apparent
years. As he watched her approach, he could see the transformation. Her face and features
grew younger with each stride, long grey hair turning into vibrant red, her grey tattered rags
into a deep green velour full-length dress and cloak with intricate gold embroidery on it. The
fitted part of the torso of her cloak showed her to be slender and tall. She slowed as she came
to Cathbad.
‘To what do we owe this honour, Phantom Queen?’ Cathbad enquired with a level of
politeness and formality he used rarely, before adding; ‘I do not believe that we need your
talents today’.
Smiling wryly, Morrigan answered him; ‘I feel today is a good day for my, as you say,
talents. As you know, my learned friend, it is not in my interests to allow these…’ she paused
as she indicated toward the Christians advancing over the bridge, ‘people to run the lives of
my friends and comrades. I also see that you have lost your friend. That was a little foolish,
wasn’t it?’
They were both interrupted as a hail of arrows came through the thinning fog and all had
to dive for cover. The Dragon had also by this stage discovered that he could burn off the fog
Morrigan turned to Cathbad and asked; ‘dragon or army? Please let me have the army.’
‘Morrigan, if you want to make yourself useful, deal with the dragon. It may help us save
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She smiled broadly. ‘Let it be so,’ and Cathbad watched the war mask descend over her
face. The whites of her eyes turned the colour of blood, the purple veins rose on her head and
cheeks, and the hands that she had brought up to her face now contained inordinately long
green and gold nails that matched her dress. She turned her back on Cathbad and rose swiftly
into the air, the drapes on her cloak seeming to act like wings.
****
The Order leader and his aide were now looking concerned. They had seen Lochru fall but
also knew their men would not return. They had said a quick prayer for their souls, confident
they would have gone straight to Heaven for their heroic deeds. This initial euphoria of
seeing the veil of water fall, and their archers launching the first volley of arrows into the
camp had died the instant they spotted Morrigan rising into the skies to face the dragon.
As he was surveying the scene through his looking glass, trying to focus on his target
through the persistent rain, the leader could see what looked like a small cloud rising from the
enemy camp. He watched with fascination until it dawned on him what the cloud was. With
panic rising in his eyes, he screamed to the men to take cover. He could not help but continue
to watch the approaching cloud of arrows – it seemed that all the salvoes that they had fired
to the camp were being returned, with interest. He did not look at the ensuing pandemonium
among the troops as they fought among each other for shields and the little cover available.
He was still looking as he saw the cloud of arrows split up and each individual arrow seemed
to seek out their own prey. The leader blessed himself as he identified the arrow that was
destined for him, until it pierced his chain mail armour and struck him in the heart.
****
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Gortaeus had watched the cloud of arrows that Cathbad had gathered from those fired at
them, redirected and launched back toward the Christians. He recalled growing up in Eastern
Europe and hearing about the power of druids and how they had the ability to call on all
natural things for help in times of peril. Arrows, being made largely from willow and ash,
which were a favourite of druids, were easily controlled. Suddenly he had other more
pressing issues to concern him. As he had been gliding around burning off the fog, he had not
noticed Morrigan rising to meet him in combat. Just in time he spotted the huge wall of tidal
wave that was about to strike him. He swerved, banked and with one huge flap of his wings,
rose vertically to avoid the water, then turned to find his foe.
She was not hiding from him. She was standing, it seemed on thin air, green dress and
cloak billowing, red hair flowing, with what seemed to be a shadow of a large black feathered
bird behind her. Not recognising her, but sure she was the cause of the attempt on him, he let
her have a short blast of fire from his mouth. His foe raised her right hand and seemed to
summon the flame into her palm, transferred to her left hand and threw back at him with a
Gortaeus easily dodged the fireball but, confused by what had just happened, swept away
from the Morrigan while he tried to think of a way to defeat her. While he pulled away he felt
himself being struck to the rear by rocks. He turned about again and saw the Morrigan casting
her hand back toward the island and pulling rocks out of the ground to fling at him. As the
next rock came toward him, he easily shattered it with a blast of fire. Getting annoyed, he
aimed another blast of fire at the Morrigan - this time he felt she had difficulty dealing with
While Gortaeus was wondering who woman was, and how she had the power to raise
rocks from the earth without touching, how she could collect and return his fire, he had not
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noticed that he himself was undergoing changes. As he became more angry or fearful, he
grew in size, but his spine and horns and also his flame grew exponentially. Many years ago,
his first master Arminius of Macedonia had told him of many legends of the Druids and the
Celtic Gods, one of which was Morrigan or The Phantom Queen, or otherwise known as the
Celtic God of War. He did not know what he had done to incur her wrath, but more
Flying higher, Gortaeus headed to sea, to reduce the amount of harm that could come to
him from the rocks thrown by Morrigan. She invariably followed, with what looked like the
shadow of a raven enveloping her. As she conjured up spells to fling the rocks or raise the
water, these also had an effect on her body. The efforts were reflected in the veins on her
face, the deepening crimson of her eyes and the twisting of the nails on her hands; she
As she continued to follow him, she spotted a fishing boat pulling into harbour. She
pointed her hands down toward the boat and lifted it toward her. As the fishermen fell from
the boat into the water along with the nets and other loose tackle, Morrigan dismantled the
boat from a distance with waves from her fingers, holding them in the air beside her, giving
her a number of large pieces of wood, which she subsequently shot at Gortaeus like darts.
The dragon was forced to duck and weave to avoid the flying wood, but there were too many.
He was struck in the ribs by one causing severe pain. Another nearly struck him in the neck,
but he turned it into ashes before it hit with a well-aimed blast of fire.
His anger rising further, Gortaeus went into attack. He felt his spines stretch like a dose of
prickly heat as he unleashed a furious blast of flame that enveloped his enemy. He was
convinced he had eliminated her, but when the flames cleared, she seemed relatively
unscathed, save for what looked like smoke emanating from the raven shadow behind her. He
had her on the run! Morrigan took off at incredible speed to sea, heading southwest,
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travelling like a ghost, with no apparent means of flight. Gortaeus followed comfortably, his
wings giving him excellent purchase in the air, firing regular blasts at her, aiming more
toward the raven shadow behind her as this seemed to give her the ability to fly.
Ten minutes later, he thought he had done it. The last blast had gotten hold on the raven
shadow, which seemed to be smoking and shrinking rapidly, and it looked like the Morrigan
knew it was struggling to keep her in the air. He was not expecting what happened next. The
Morrigan turned to look at him, winked, looked up toward the clouds, reached up and
grabbed what looked like a spear made of ice. She threw it straight at him, but as Gortaeus
was in shock over the wink, he was not ready for the ice spear, which struck and penetrated
his left wing, leaving a small tear in his hide covering. She was challenging him!
As Gortaeus recollected himself, having decided the small hole in his wing would not hold
him back too much, he turned just in time to see Morrigan disappear. The next instant he saw
what looked like a large fish falling toward the sea. Then all was quiet, and he saw land in the
horizon, which he believed was Hibernia, home of the Celts. As he was thinking what the
future held for him, what would become of his master, how long it would take for his wing to
heal, and he suddenly had a feeling of dread. He had good reason. A wall of water was rising
from the sea to meet him. It seemed to be in the shape of a fish, but also appeared to have the
face of a fish, but with the detail of her eyes, nose and mouth formed in the slate grey mass of
water. There was far too much water there for him to burn off, so it was his turn to flee. The
wall of water blocked his route to land, so he headed south as full speed. He also tried to gain
height as he flew, in order to make it more difficult for the Morrigan to reach him with her
tidal weapon.
Try as he might, he was struck numerous times by the water, each hit weakening him
further. He continued to try to get to dry land, in order to recharge and have a fighting chance
where his primary weapon, his flames, would be effective. He looked at the latest wave, the
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distance to shore, and thought quickly. He folded his wings back and veered to the side as it
hit, then allowed himself to fall out of the sky into the water, as if critically injured. Hitting
the water, he bottomed out quickly to stay shallow, took a breath – being an occidental
dragon, he had the ability to breathe underwater – and opened his eyes to adjust his sight to
Before long, holding himself stationary and lifeless just under the surface, he made out his
foe again. She was in the shape of a large salmon, swimming up toward him to see if she had
been successful. Gortaeus struck. He lunged toward her under the water - another rarely
known quality of his genus of dragon was their agility underwater, and that they frequently
hunted underwater – had her in his massive jaws, but somehow she wriggled free, albeit with
a tear to her side where she had got caught on his sharp fangs.
After pursuing her underwater for what seemed like an eternity, nearly catching her a
number of times, and having caused her further injuries, Gortaeus could see they were
approaching the shore. He could see sand at the sea bottom coming to meet him, and decided
it was time to go ashore to finish the battle. He sprang from the water, opened his wings
again, rose up and then settled on a dark volcanic rock by the shore. And waited.
He did not have to dwell too long. He watched the ripple in the water, followed by
Morrigan’s red hair rising, as she came out of the water, limping at first, and then
straightening to a purposeful stride, up the beach toward Gortaeus. She looked completely
different from before – her face was grey and wizened, skin looked rough and scaled, dress
torn where he had caught her in his fangs, her nails were long and twisted but her features
were contorted in rage. The dragon looked her in her blood red eyes and could see she had
The Phantom Queen looked around, raised her arms, and the sand on the beach, the rocks
and the few trees all rose in the air. As she threw her arms forward, the sand, rocks and trees
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flew toward Gortaeus, who launched a huge blast of flames toward them. The sand and rocks
melted into a wall of glass, while the trees were incinerated. As the Morrigan was raising
another rock to throw, the dragon blasted it with his flame while she held it in the air over her
head, with the added benefit on some molten rock dripping on her. This only served to anger
her more, her eyes blazing scarlet red. She looked around the rocks nearby and selected one
she liked. With a wave of her hand, she stripped back a layer of rock to expose a seam of iron
ore.
Reaching into the iron ore, the Morrigan then pulled what appeared to be two perfectly
worked iron spears from it and turned to face Gortaeus again. With what looked like grim
pleasure, she let go of one of the spears, and it streaked toward him. He was slow to react due
to tiredness, but rose while simultaneously trying to melt the spear with his flame. It did not
work in time. The spear struck under his front right leg, split the ribcage and lung and hit his
Falling heavily to the ground, Gortaeus knew he was doomed. He could feel the blood
flowing from his wound, the iron spear snapping as he landed. All he could think of was what
punishment his master would suffer because he had failed his mission. He looked around at
his surroundings; the peaceful beach surrounded by the rocks and island across the water, and
felt this was not a bad place to die. Feeling the life ebb from him, he looked toward the victor.
Morrigan was smiling. Her normal countenance had returned, the vibrant red hair, the fine
pale features on her face, the dress and cloak were immaculate once again, and she was
walking up toward the stricken dragon. He could see her eyes were now a pale jade green.
‘You were a worthy opponent, Dragon’, she spoke. ‘I have rarely had such a battle except
As she leant forward to touch him, Gortaeus felt one last burst of anger rise. In an instant,
he raised his head from the ground, opened his mouth, and engulfed the Morrigan in one bite.
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Five seconds later, the slain dragon started to vibrate, and a plume of smoke began to rise
from his body. The heat intensified, the body solidified, fossilising instantly, and then began
to glow, until it was close to white hot. The heat from the inferno burnt off the neighbouring
gorse and bushes, then caused the rock to melt, and the remains of the dragon started to sink
deep into the rock, the immediate rock turning into glass. Finally the inferno started to
subside when the dragon had sunk completely into the rock. The smoke eased off and the
molten rock closed over the body, sealing it off for what may be forever.
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The removal truck had arrived at last. It was three hours late, and it was getting dark. The
sun had already set, but the light still reflected off the light amber-orange clouds, with a half
moon making an appearance from behind the occasional scudding cloud. This meant there
was still a decent amount of light, which meant that everybody was going to be unpacking
late into the night. As the removal men were hauling boxes and furniture out of the truck, a
young boy of about fifteen, with long wavy dark hair, and piercing grey eyes under dark
brows, parked himself on one of the sofas that had just been taken out of the truck and placed
on the ground. He had thrown his feet up over the side of the sofa, and was becoming
‘Alex Keyes, will you please stop messing with your flaming Playstation, and give us a
hand here,’ yelled his mother, Maria, a tall slim woman in her late thirties. ‘Matt, that box
‘But it has master bedroom written on it!’ countered Matt. Matt was tired. He had been up
at six that morning packing boxes and had also helped the removal men pack the truck, as
they had arrived one man light and would not have made it in time otherwise. Although of
medium height, his powerful build and former years spent as a rugby player meant he was
very capable of carrying great weights, but he was now just turned forty-three and a bit unfit,
‘Just do what you’re told!’ Maria returned. Matt turned back down the hall and headed for
the kitchen, muttering about having wasted their time writing on boxes. ‘Where’s Hannah? I
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Druids and Dragons – The Keeper of Souls
‘Check around the front, Maria. She was wandering off that way in a bit of a snot,' Matt
called back.
‘Go get her, Matt. She is not going to get out of helping us.’
Matt dropped the box with master bedroom written on it in the kitchen, went out the back
door, not yet knowing where the keys were for the front door, and walked about the front of
the house. As he rounded the corner, his attention was caught by the view down the garden to
the sea; beyond the small group of palm trees, his view was distracted by the breathtaking
sight of the rocky outcrop, beyond which lay a small tree-lined harbour, a small island almost
in the centre. ‘I hope I never get bored with that view,’ he whispered to himself, as he spotted
Hannah sitting on the steps halfway down the garden past the front of the house, and went
down to her. She was hunched forward on the step, her arms clenched about her knees, and
‘I want to go live with Granny!’ Hannah wept as she heard her dad coming down the steps
to her.
‘Your mum and I have told you many times already, Hannah,’ Matt said quietly. ‘We did
this to give us all a better quality of life, look around you,’ indicating the scenery and the
large five bedroom house on five acres that was now their home. It was an imposing house
with a fully glazed gable end where the living room overlooked the water, and was built on
the edge of a rocky outcrop, with a drop of ten feet of rock face to a small grassy incline
‘But I was happy in the city, Dad, and now you have taken all my friends away from me. I
Matt sat down and put his arm over her shoulder. ‘We can have your friends down over
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‘That’s not the same,’ Hannah mumbled. They both went quiet for a couple of minutes,
which they watched two grey seals frolic in the water near the shore, not more than thirty feet
from where they sat. It was as if they were putting on a show for them. Hannah could not tell
her dad about the real reason for her unhappiness. The most beautiful, the kindest boy in her
class in her old school had just started to notice her before the summer break, and she would
never see or kiss him again. She was heartbroken, knowing she would never be happy again,
‘You will make loads of new friends in your new school in September. Remember you
will be able to bring friends over and go visiting – it is so much safer here,’ Matt reassured
his daughter.
‘But what about my dance and music classes? And is there a cinema in this hole? We are
fifty miles from anywhere, for crying out loud!’ Hannah ranted.
‘Calm down, Hannah, and less of that language,’ Matt advised her. ‘We have countryside,
fishing, swimming in our front garden, horse riding, and loads of things to do. Now come on
Hannah pulled the sleeve of her jumper over her hand, wiped her tear strewn face on it,
and turned to follow her dad back toward the house. As she swept the hair from in front of
her face to tie it into a ponytail, her features revealed a slim face with high cheekbones, slim
shoulders and a narrow waist and hips. Her green eyes were puffy from the tears and her lips
‘You are sixteen years old, Hannah. Will you ever stop wiping your nose on your sleeve?’
Alex was still hammering away at his PSP when Hannah reappeared to help with the
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‘Look at that lazy toad!’ Hannah objected when directed at a box with her name written on
it.
Alex hopped off the sofa, slotted the PSP into the thigh pocket of his combats, stuck his
tongue out at his sister, and picked up a box. Although he was more than a year younger than
his sister, he was tall and well-built, and people regularly mistook them for twins. Hannah
despised him for his lackadaisical attitude toward her plight since everything seemed to come
so easily for him. He had been constantly surrounded by admiring girls at school, but quite
contentedly ignored them, passing on their amorous advances. The Phys Ed teacher had also
made him to join the rugby team, the athletic team and football team, as he had a natural
power and athleticism that belied his large build, having won most of the events in the school
sports day without even trying, but he showed less interest than his talent promised.
It took until late in the night to get the truck unpacked. It required a car trip into
Glengarriff village by Maria to rustle up a fish and chip supper for her family and the
removal men, who had been trying to escape without carrying the furniture into the house.
Maria was in better humour as they all sat together on the furniture that was scattered in the
back yard.
‘Typical men,’ she laughed as they were stuffing their faces. ‘Ornery when hungry!’
Matt looked up with his mouth full. ‘An army marches on its stomach!’ he smiled back at
her. He was completely at ease with Maria’s taunts and could ignore them happily. He would
****
Shannon, Ireland
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‘When will these idiots leave us alone?’ Tom Mann growled to his superior officer,
Assistant Director Hugh Spitz, while pacing backwards and forwards and looking out of
Spitz’s office window. ‘Bunch of tree hugging pinko lefties! I love that description – one of
the Irish politicians said it – we could do with more of his type Stateside, Sir.’ Mann looked
like a typical CIA agent out of the movies – over six foot two, lean but powerfully built, the
result of his Olympics swimming training, square jaw and tight haircut – not the sort of guy
‘We could do with a few more of his type here at the moment,’ Spitz replied, twirling his
gold Cross pen through his fingers, as he scanned through the text on his computer screen.
‘We got a mention in the government meeting this morning, and the press are all over it.
‘Extraordinary Rendition’ they are calling it. They still think that we are bringing in Al Qaeda
suspects to torture here.’ Spitz looked like another tough cookie. Like Mann, he was an ex-
marine – smaller, slimmer – but he held himself taut, constantly on edge. He had long ago
seen most of his hair washed down the shower plughole, and now shaved the little that
remained.
Mann turned to look out the window of their second floor office toward the protestors that
had camped out at the boundary of the airport that was adjacent to their compound. He was
constantly amazed that they seemed impervious to the steady drizzle that seemed to be a
regular feature of Irish weather, and that had the uncanny ability to seep through to his very
bones. The protestors were primarily women, some dreadlocked hippy types, setting up a
large tent on the triangular grass open area to indicate that they intended to be about for a
while. They had placards and banners tied to the boundary fencing with various slogans:
‘Yanks out’, ‘No Extraordinary Rendition’, ‘Kidnappers’, read the polite ones. Mann had an
uneasy feeling as he looked a two people in the group that looked like they did not belong.
They were casually dressed, were walking about independently of each other, but seemed to
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have no interest in what was going on in the camp. He also sensed that the two were
communicating with each other, although they were some distance apart. It was most odd.
‘Would they be more upset if they knew what we are really doing here, Boss?’ Mann
offered, coming around to stand behind Spitz to read the contents of the screen.
‘Absolutely! Orders are that under no circumstances is anybody outside to find out what
we are doing here. And that comes from the absolute top. If everybody else thinks the USA is
illegally capturing Al Qaeda suspects and bringing them through Shannon to Guantanamo,
‘We can get away with looking suitably guilty when their press catch us, then. Did the
‘Yep. Excluding here, there are no more than six people on the outside who know about
this programme,’ was the reply from his boss. He hit the print button on his computer,
starting the nearby printer clattering as it churned out the report for the meeting they were
Mann was happy with life at the moment. Having joined the Navy Seals via the marines
following his Olympics silver medal, he had been co-opted into the CIA ten years ago this
week, due to his so-called ‘unusual talents’. After five years in a Special Investigations Team
in the Nevada Desert, known to others as Area Fifty One, he had been asked to join a team
setting up a special project in Ireland, just over four years ago. He had the chance to move to
Ireland with his wife and two kids and have as close to a normal life as possible. Living in
Area Fifty One did not allow much private space or social life, nor offer many opportunities
Spitz was not as happy to be in Ireland, however. As Deputy Director of the CIA, he still
held ambitions of further promotion, and heading up a small project in the back of beyond did
not strike him as the best career path. The Director had specified to him that he had been
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Druids and Dragons – The Keeper of Souls
chosen on Presidential Order, but was hoping that this was not just the Director trying to
make him feel less upset with the move. He could not deny, however, that they were making
progress, but was still concerned about how the results of their project would finally be
applied.
Spitz looked up at Mann, and saw that they were both thinking the same thing.
‘What happens with these kids when we are done with them, boss?’ Mann asked.
‘Hopefully nothing. Hopefully they will be able to live out their lives as normally as us. I
don’t like the alternative,’ Spitz did not look entirely convinced himself with what he had told
Mann knew what he meant as he turned to look out the window again. Prior to setting up
this project, the majority of the kids that they had tracked either disappeared or met an
untimely end. He looked at the two suspicious people down at the protestors’ camp,
wondering what was so odd about them. All his years of training did not help figure out what
was different about them; they did not appear to be military, and if they were press, they
would be closer as they tended to club together in situations like this. It was his sixth sense
that told him there was something wrong about them. Then he saw both turn to look directly
at him – at least Mann thought so – until he recalled that the glass windows were one-way, so
****
The following morning Alex was first out of bed as usual. Unlike his sister and his
parents, he rarely needed more than six hours sleep. This frequently led to trouble for him
though, as he had an adventurous - his parents would call fearless - streak in him which had
led him to be quite well known in the local Accident and Emergency Department in Cork. A
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little disoriented with waking up in a strange house, he made his way to the kitchen to be
greeted by piles of unopened boxes. He rummaged about and located the cereal box in the
depths on the boxes, milk in the fridge and, failing to find bowls, improvised with a saucepan.
The sun was shining outside in a clear cloudless sky, and the chill in the air had abated, so
Alex went outside to explore. He had not had the opportunity to have a proper look around on
the previous visits when they were viewing the house before they had bought it, as he had
never been alone. He strolled up to the top of the garden, making his way up the path through
overgrown Pitosporum, Viburnum and Buddlea bushes which, among others, had invaded the
walkway over the last year while the house had lain vacant. He looked around the centuries-
old fir trees that looked like they had always been there, ivy having climbed to the top of the
trees over the more recent decades. Following the boundary to the east, he discovered a little
gorse – covered wilderness on what looked like lava flow, leading down to the water. He
admired the shape and texture of the rock as he strolled along, dodging the prickly gorse
bushes and trying to remember what he had been taught in school about the different types of
volcanic rock. He then happened on a most unusual piece of rock, and bent down on his
It was roughly circular in shape, probably twenty feet in diameter, and was immaculately
smooth. But the strangest thing was that it appeared to be opaque. Alex put his face to the
rock tried to peer through the greenish rock. He thought he could make out it was hollow
underneath, with light seeming to reflect from shapes and rocks deeper down. It looked for all
the world like somebody had laid a pane of slightly obscure glass over a cave.
Looking around to see if there was any way to get in, Alex then heard a familiar
interruption.
‘Alex? House, now!’ It was his mother as usual, calling for him from the back door of the
house. He stood up, annoyed with the interruption, but also aware of the consequences of
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non-compliance. While turning to go back to the house, Alex resolved to revisit that strange
place again as soon as possible. As he came into the kitchen, he saw his mother at the sink
‘Mum, you washed those cups before we packed them, why do you have to wash them
again?’ Alex was amazed about his mother’s need for cleanliness and disinfection
everywhere.
‘I won’t dignify that with an answer, Alex. Now set the table before your dad comes in.’
Alex heard industrious sounds coming from the en-suite shower down the house, and set the
After going into the spare room by accident, Alex quickly located Hannah’s bedroom and
tried the door handle. Unexpectedly it was unlocked – Hannah had recently developed the
habit of locking her door to prevent unauthorised midnight visits from him when he had a
nightmare or in latter years to discuss their frequent parent-free escapades – so he opened the
‘Go away,’ was the muffled response. She did not move, and as usual she was completely
‘Hannah, I think I found a cave outside. We have to check it out.’ The mound moved
surprisingly quickly. Hannah was usually up for an adventure, but usually made sure that
Alex was the one in trouble if they got caught. One of the benefits of being the older sister,
The whole family sat down to a breakfast of bacon and eggs, including Alex, who had
already eaten, but who would heartily eat again. Conversation was minimal, as most were
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still exhausted from the exertions of the previous night. Alex was sprightly as usual, but had
learned to curb his enthusiasm when he could see others were not up to it. He devoured the
contents of his plate, along with three slices of some excellent brown soda bread his mother
‘Not much,’ Hannah replied, looking at Alex with a glint in her eye. ‘We were thinking of
having a look around the garden and just hanging out. We thought you wouldn’t be up to
‘That sounds like a great idea, Hannah,’ Maria piped up, looking relieved. She looked at
Matt, as if to thank him for having a word with Hannah, as it seemed like her mood was far
better today, and Matt nodded, happy to accept any praise that was coming in his direction,
earned or otherwise.
‘I am back to work next Monday,’ Matt reminded everybody, suddenly thinking of the
engineering job he had escaped from for the last eight days, and the slight dread at having to
return when his two weeks were up. ‘But I will only be in the office two or three days a
week,’ he continued. ‘The guys should land this afternoon to sort out the broadband
connection.’ He was pleased that the move had gone so well, and hoped to get everybody
settled in before he returned to work in six days, also hoping his plan to work from home two
or three days per week would run smoothly. He then started to think about what other
software he still had to load on the computer to be able to network with the office, and then
found himself daydreaming about the extra time he would have, avoiding the commute to and
from work.
‘Anything we want to do before I go back to work, let me know,’ he said to anybody who
was listening.
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As Maria tidied up after breakfast, and while Matt was sorting out the room that was to
‘Follow me,’ he replied. Hannah followed him over past the side of the house, through the
‘Wow, cool!’ Hannah gasped as she knelt down to feel the glass. Like Alex before, she put
‘Alex, look! There is something shiny there. Over there!’ Alex jumped over the where she
was pointing, just catching a glint of light from something. He dropped to his knees and put
As both were looking through the glass, trying to get another glimpse of what was
underneath; there was a strange high pitched sound, not unlike the sound of somebody
scraping their fingernails on a chalkboard. Both Alex and Hannah looked at each other, not
quite knowing where the noise had come from, when suddenly the glass roof to the cave gave
way underneath them, collapsing inward into the cave. Having landed awkwardly but safely
at the bottom of the cave, they got up gingerly and looked around. The cave was about twelve
feet deep, so it was strange that neither had come to any harm in the fall, but there was a deep
layer of dust that seemed to cushion their footsteps. It was mainly spherical in shape, perhaps
fifteen feet in diameter, but with a deep linear indentation on one side with what looked like
deep regular holes. On the opposite side, there was what looked like a shelf dug into the cave,
midway up the wall. Alex climbed into the shelf area to look around. He could see a couple
of deep holes in the ceiling of the shelf area, but was more fascinated with regular grooves in
‘Hannah, look at this,’ said Alex quietly. ‘I think it was a dinosaur. Look at these teeth.’
Hannah came over to have a look, climbing into the shelf area alongside Alex.
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‘What’s this,’ she asked as she snagged her trouser leg on something protruding out of the
smooth internal surface. She turned around to free her leg and found the offending item. It
looked like a ring, a gold band with what looked like a dark stone inlaid in it, partially sunk
into the rock wall. She could not make out the colour but thought it could be dark red.
With a little tugging, the ring came loose. Hannah held it up to the light and rubbed it with
her sleeve. She was right, it was dark red, a large single stone held in a gold band with
strange circular markings on it. Slipping it on to the ring finger on her left hand, Hannah held
‘Previous owner must have had small hands,’ Alex said, his attention just having been
caught by something else on the ground. ‘How long has this been here?’ He reached down
and picked up a small narrow leather strap holding a metal disc with some engraving on it.
The rear of the disc was shiny, possibly silver. Alex turned it over to try to make out the
‘What do you think this is, Hannah?’ he asked. Hannah looked closely at the disc, spit a
‘Looks like it could be a dragon, a bit like those Chinese ones you see in the restaurant,’
she said, giving it back to Alex who looked at the leather strap, confused.
‘How long has this been down here?’ he asked. ‘This feels and smells brand new, but it
must have been down here for years,’ he said, smelling it again. It was strange, he was
thinking, looking around in the cave, wondering how it could have gotten in the cave and still
stay pristine for what must be hundreds of years, unmarked and fresh. Hannah had picked up
‘No,’ replied Alex. ‘Odd, but I feel OK about this place. Now how are we going to get out
of here?’
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They were both stumped. The roof of the cave, which was their mode of entry, was about
twelve feet up. Neither Hannah nor Alex was particularly small, but climbing out was going
to be a challenge. It was obvious there were no other ways in or out of the cave. Other than
the shelf area and the indentation opposite, there were very few other markings in the cave.
The walls and floor were very like the roof had been, dark glass-like, relatively smooth, but
with very little marking. Looking at each other, Alex and Hannah sat down.
‘Mum is going to be furious,’ said Hannah. ‘Unless we can find a way out of here
ourselves.’
Alex was still looking at the disc in wonder, rubbing the etching on the surface. He hung it
around his neck and turned to Hannah. ‘I know where there is some rope in the garage.’
‘Not much good to us here,’ said Hannah, looking up. ‘You spend all your time playing
Dungeons and Dragons on that PSP of yours – you must know how to get us out of here,’ she
added.
‘Dungeons and Dragons is so last year, it’s Zelda these days,’ Alex replied. ‘Anyway,
He had already given up on the shelf as a way out as it was too low down, so turned to
look at the indentations at the opposite end of the cave. He inspected the long deep cut into
the side that was roughly diagonal, starting wide near the bottom and ending narrower toward
the top. More interesting were the pyramid type holes all the way along. Alex walked along
and looked at each of them, trying to figure out if he could get a foot or hand grip in each
hole.
‘If we act like this is a climbing wall, like the one dad brought us to at that holiday show
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‘If one of us gets out, we will be OK, Hannah. Remember the rope in the garage,’ he
assured her. ‘I don’t want to call mum or dad – they would kill us if they find out.’
Alex was tall and powerfully built for his age, resulting in his being a popular pick for
both the school rugby and football team, but also resulted in expectations that exceeded his
maturity, which led to more than one story about his short temper being best avoided. He put
his hands in one of the higher holes and his left foot in one of the lower holes and, stretching
his body, held himself in the holes. He put his right foot in the next hole up, and then moved
his hands one by one into the next hole up. Carefully, he continued upwards, until he got to
the top and, arms shaking with the effort, swung over the top. Looking back at Hannah, he
Five minutes later, Hannah too was out of the cave, being no stranger to rope or tree
climbing. Looking back into the cave carefully, she looked at the ring on her finger.
‘What shall we say to Mum about these?’ she asked Alex, waving her ring and pointing at
his chest, where he had hung the disc he had found. Alex looked at his chest to look at the
disc, but it was no longer there. He pulled on the neck of his tee shirt, to see if it had slipped
‘I must have lost mine,’ he said to Hannah, feeling at his chest. He felt a rough patch of
skin on the top of his chest near his neck, got a funny feeling, a strange tingle down his spine,
but said nothing to his sister. ‘Mum would not have a clue if you had another ring, anyway,’
he assured Hannah.
They made their way back to the house, elated by their adventure, discussing how to
introduce their discovery of the cave to their parents. As they made it back to the house, they
heard muffled noises down the hallway, coming from their parents’ bedroom.
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‘There in a minute, kids,' came the reply from their dad, followed by the sounds of their
parents giggling.
‘I know exactly what they were doing. They’re gross,’ Hannah said to Alex, who was not
listening. He was rubbing the mark on his neck again, trying to figure out what had happened.
Alex paced his way down the corridor to his bathroom, locked the door, took off his tee
shirt and stood up to the mirror over the sink. He could make out the mark on his chest. A
small part of skin was raised and marginally proud of the rest. Looking closely at it, he had an
uncanny feeling that it looked like the dragon etching he had seen on the disc that he had lost.
Continuing to look at it in the mirror, it seemed for an instant to Alex like it has just glowed
or flashed at him. He shook his head as if to clear the thought from his mind, put his tee shirt
Hannah was also having a moment with her ring in the kitchen. She had tried to slide it off
her finger to look at it more closely, but it seemed to be far tighter than before. She thought
her fingers must have swelled in the climb out of the cave. She put some washing-up liquid
on the ring to see if she could slide it off, but it did not budge. Drying her hands, she looked
more closely at the ring, which now looked sparkling. The red stone seemed to have different
shades through it, darker in the middle and lighter red to the outside. The band was also very
interesting. To the sides where the stone was inlaid, the series of interconnecting spirals
seemed to be endless. As she was tracing the spirals through once again with her fingernail,
Feeling a little lightheaded, she was interrupted by Alex coming into the kitchen. She
looked up quickly and put her hand down behind her back.
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3. Discovery
Neither Alex nor Hannah had spoken to each other about their discoveries during the last
week. Perhaps subconsciously guilty, they had busied themselves with getting their rooms in
order, and spent time with their parents prior to their dad returning to work.
During the past week, both were roped into cutting down a lot of the scrub brush and
willow trees that had invaded the lower half of the garden since the last family lived at the
house. Maria busied herself with pruning the shrubs and roses near the house, Matt was using
the chainsaw to tackle the larger trees, and Alex and Hannah were tasked with carrying off
the branches to prepare the bonfire. Shortly after lunch, Matt sat back on the top step leading
to the bottom garden, taking the mug of coffee that Maria had just offered him, admiring their
handiwork.
‘Looks fantastic, Matt,’ she replied, beaming. The place was starting to feel like home.
She had been a bit anxious about the move, not just for the kids, but also for herself, being so
isolated, and away from her own friends and support group. During the week, however, she
had located an equestrian centre and booked horse riding lessons for herself for during the
week, and for Hannah for after school. Matt was delighted to try out the local golf course,
which was less than a kilometre away, and Alex had also shown some interest and talent
when he went out for the first time two days previously. He was pleased that Alex had
enjoyed himself, albeit while attempting to create new bunkers in the course on two
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Druids and Dragons – The Keeper of Souls
occasions, with the size of the divots he took, and would need encouragement to slow down
his swing.
Matt stood up again and took in the scenery. He was still being caught unaware by the
sheer beauty and simplicity of the high tide coming up to cover the sand that would soon
reach their half-collapsed front wall, the small island to the right, and the tree lined harbour,
with the complete absence of proof of other human habitation. ‘Look at that view, Love’, he
said, looking out to sea. Their front garden between the house and the sea was now more
open and no longer restricted the view. The sand on the beach only added to the feeling of
warmth he felt.
‘I want to rebuild that wall on the coast when I have time,’ Matt said to all. ‘I would like
to set up some sort of a patio area down on the coastline……what should we do with that
scrubland area?’ he indicated as he turned to look at the area where the cave was located.
‘Don’t know,’ said Alex. ‘Have not really had a look around there yet.’
‘Great idea,’ Matt said. He turned to the others and beckoned to them to follow. Making
their way slightly uphill to the gorse area, Hannah looked at Alex, her eyebrows raised, as if
to ask what they should say or do. Alex shrugged, not knowing.
As they worked their way through the gorse area, they split up. There was more than an
acre of lava rock running from the side of the house down to the sea. Much of it was arid,
bare rock, the rest home to gorse and willow bushes, with some heathers. There was little of
As Maria was approaching the cave area, Hannah and Alex rushed ahead to intercept just
in case she did not notice it and fell in. They came on the cave simultaneously, and all
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‘It looks like a cave. Matt! Come here! Be careful kids, it looks deep.’
‘Yeah, it does, Mum,’ said Alex, peering into the cave, having lain down to look into it,
with just his head over the hole, hoping that their footprints would not be visible in the dust.
Thankfully it had rained since their visit to the cave, erasing any evidence.
When Matt caught up, there were now four people looking into the cave, saying nothing.
‘Can we get the ladder out of the garage, Dad? It should reach down,’ he asked.
‘Great idea, Son,’ Matt answered. Alex had not fallen far from the tree when it came to his
adventurous spirit. Matt and Alex headed back toward the house to fetch the ladder. They did
not speak to each other, Alex because he did not want to slip up on what he already knew,
Matt because he was thinking of his own childhood and the fun times he had, building tree
houses and occasionally falling out of them, or his favourite trick of surfing down the outside
Matt and Alex returned shortly with the ladder. It was a lightweight aluminium ladder,
double extendable. They slid it into the cave easily, and Matt was the first to go down. Maria
held the ladder as Alex and Hannah were quick to follow, but decided not to go down herself,
‘Don’t know, Son,’ he replied. ‘The walls are like glass, which means that it must have
been very hot. May have been a meteorite, or a volcanic lava flow. I can’t think of anything
‘Look at this,’ Hannah said, pointing at the shelf that they had inspected previously. ‘It
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Matt moved over to look more closely. ‘What are the chances a meteor could have hit a
dinosaur head on,’ he laughed, looking around. Then he saw the markings opposite, making
out what looked like a tail imprint. ‘May have been a dragon, lads!’ he suggested with a
****
The protestors were growing in numbers at the boundary fence. Mann was grumpy, and
this time it was not due to the wet drizzle that had returned to dampen his spirits again. He
was feeling uneasy about the security on the airport and that of their project. Watching the
different groups within the protestors’ camp over the last week, he knew something was up.
‘Boss,’ he said to Spitz. ‘Something’s up. Should I call security at the airport?’
‘Go ahead, Tom,’ Spitz had been expecting this. ‘Put our security on alert as well.’
‘Ok,’ Mann agreed. He hung up on his boss and dialled security in his own building first.
They did not have long to wait. While a couple of protestors had been hanging a new
banner on the security fence, it appeared that they had used wire cutters on the fence at the
same time. It was excellent sleight of hand, as security had been watching at the same time,
and did not notice. Within seconds, about thirty people had breached the fence, and were
running toward the area where the unmarked Boeing 747 and DC10 were parked up.
Although the Airport security personnel were out immediately, only those in the patrol
cars got to the protestors before they got to the planes. The sheer numbers overran the
security staff, and eight made it through. Mann watched one grey haired woman, who must
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have been old enough to be a grandmother, climbing a service vehicle and taking a domestic
As security were trying to get to her, he then saw two more climbing the personnel steps to
the rear of the DC10. He smiled at the amateurishness of the security staff. Then his phone
rang.
‘Breach, Sir. Minus one, kitchen. What do you want us to do?’ It was George Sullivan, his
head of security.
‘Isolate and hold. Thanks George. Earpiece on, everybody,' Mann called into the Motorola
communications unit all the security personnel carried. He checked his Glock in his shoulder
holster and touched his left ankle to make sure his insurance was in place, then headed for the
‘Not in kitchen, pantry, ladies or gents. Must be in conference room. We have lock-down
‘Well done. Make sure you have it surrounded. Are wireless and network connections shut
down?’
Mann stopped at the landing of floor minus one, and hesitated. ‘Just in case,’ he said to
himself, and carried on down to the next floor, drew his gun and looked down the corridor.
Hearing noises, he crept silently along the corridor, gun cocked. He was mentally noting the
position of the conference room above, trying to figure where they would come down if they
Then he heard a mechanical noise that was most familiar to him. It was the sound of the
safety coming off of a Walther PPK, one of his favourite guns, one that he owned, but was
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Druids and Dragons – The Keeper of Souls
not allowed to carry, his employers being wary of comparisons with fictional British Secret
Service agents.
‘Dammit, infra red,' he mouthed to himself as he dropped to the floor to avoid the bullets.
As he fell, he rolled to the side and returned fire, having calculated the line from the
trajectory of the previous bullets. He listened to the thump of one person falling, and then ran
‘Get into the conference room now, weapons ready,’ he shouted to his earpiece. ‘Get
somebody to floor minus two, now,’ he shouted, bursting through the fire doors and vaulting
the steps three at the time down to floor minus three. A hail of bullets met him as he made it
to the bottom. Mann sheltered behind a concrete pillar as he worked out a plan.
He reached down toward his insurance policy inside his left leg. He could not allow
intruders to compromise their project, whatever the cost. There were kids to be protected on
‘Basement and minus one clear, floor minus two; one body, must have gone down.
Mann stood out, opened the doors into the corridor, and looked the remaining intruder in
the eye. In spite of the balaclava and the black combats, he could see it was one of the men he
had seen in the camp, and he was pointing what looked like an M16 automatic rifle at Mann,
but could not pull the trigger. Mann closed his eyes to avoid seeing him die, then turned his
back and walked away so he did not have to hear the screams nor have to see the man’s body
‘Floor minus two secure, George. Get a cleanup team up here,’ Mann spoke quietly into
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Druids and Dragons – The Keeper of Souls
‘Yessir,' George understood. He served with Mann in the Navy Seals, and was familiar
with his commanding officer’s methods, not questioning what others would call exceedingly
strange.
‘Get back to your rooms, now!’ he shouted at three young faces that had appeared from
Mann headed to the elevator, inserted his key, and pressed basement and floor minus one
buttons simultaneously. The elevator went up to the floor below the basement, and opened.
Three security men with an array of weapons pointed at him were his welcome.
‘Stand down. It’s fixed,’ Mann said, looking over their shoulders, looking for Spitz, who
was not there. He made his way up three floors to Spitz’s office, and saw he was on the
phone.
‘Yes, Minister. Thank you very much. Do you want me give you a draft wording for the
press release?.....yes Sir, I will have it with your office in ten minutes,' Spitz put the phone
‘I have it agreed with the Irish Government that those guys were part of the invasion of the
airport. They were shot because they were armed and we think they were terrorists hijacking
the peaceful demonstration,’ Spitz said as he looked at Mann for his opinion.
‘Should work, Sir,’ Mann replied, still breathing hard more from the adrenalin of the
‘How bad is the second body, George,’ Spitz had called Mann’s head of security. ‘Good,
‘The bodies are being moved to the 747 as we speak, and we will take scene photos there,’
Spitz said. ‘We will keep the bodies as suspected terrorists, but we have to copy our post
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‘Thank you, Boss,’ Mann responded, relieved. ‘Can I walk through the school? Need to
calm down.’
‘Sure, Tom. Remind yourself why we are doing this,’ Spitz assured him, watching him
stroll off.
****
The following morning, Alex waited until his dad went to the city to get a different
software programme to help his computer network with his office and his home printer, and
until Hannah went down to the nearby equestrian centre with their mum for fittings and
familiarisation, before going into his dad’s office and logging on to the internet.
Using the search engine, he filled in the name ‘dragon’ and his address into the search bar
and hit enter, but the only entries that came back were the local Chinese restaurant, a martial
arts school and some recycling company. He felt displaced, without direction, not in control
of himself for the first time, not knowing what had happened to the disc on his chest. He tried
entering other combinations of words and searching for information, and found a lot of
amateur websites, with a variety of descriptions of dragons, histories and stories, but nothing
he felt that was remotely genuine. He searched for references to dragon amulets or
engravings, but got only references to computer games, so he gave up. He had just typed in
‘Witch’ and ‘Red Ring’ into the search toolbar when he sensed Hannah looking over his
shoulder, a millisecond before she clouted him in the back of his head with the palm of her
hand.
‘Is that what you think the ring is about, Toad?’ she scolded him angrily, using her
favourite description for him that she knew he hated, and waiting however to see if anything
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came up on the search before hitting him again. Hannah was about to abuse him further but
‘Hannah, look at this. Tell me what you think,’ he asked her, pulling off his tee shirt and
‘What sort of gross trick are you going to play on me now, Toad?’ she was unaware Alex
‘I’m not messing, Sis. I think I know what it is, but I need you to tell me what you think,’
‘Did you find that disc, Alex? This mark is the spitting image of it. How did that happen?’
Alex suddenly had a feeling of indigestion or reflux in his throat. Trying to burp to clear
‘What have you done?’ Hannah shouted at Alex. She was looking at the desk lampshade,
part of which was in flames. It was one of a pair that her mum had given her when they
moved, pale beige linen with wood carving, made from sustainable natural products, as
Hannah was determined to be ecologically friendly, but she did not like them and had given
them to her dad for his office. She threw the tea towel she had in her hand over it to smother
the flames.
‘The bulb must have set the shade on fire. How could I have done it?’ Alex replied.
‘It was you, you git. When you coughed, I saw sparks or something coming out of your
mouth,’ Hannah argued back, starting to doubt what she had just seen, and then went quiet
for a moment. Rather than embarrass herself, she decided to change the subject.
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‘Anyway, look at this. This is even stranger than you,’ she showed him the ring that was
still stuck on her finger and tried to wriggle it loose, but it was obvious it was stuck fast.
‘That was loose when you put it on in the cave, Hannah,’ he said, moving closer to look at
the ring. He tried to move it himself, but without success. As he was working it, he could
have sworn that the layers or red in the stone rippled. He squinted at it more closely.
‘I am sure this is a witch’s ring or something,’ Alex said quietly, not knowing how
Hannah would take it, after her reaction to his internet search. ‘They always wear things like
Hannah was quiet. She had thought the same herself. She did not tell him about the strange
things that had happened to her during the week. She waited as Alex stroked the ring, hoping
that something would happen again with another person there, so she did not think she was
As Alex was fiddling with the ring, Hannah had been thinking about the table lamp
incident, and how they would explain the charring on the shade and the tea towel, and that
she should have tried to blow the flames out instead, when a gust of wind blew through the
room. They both looked at each other in surprise, as the windows were closed and then,
hearing something strange beside them, turned to watch the lampshade knitting itself back
together.
‘Not yet,’ Hannah replied. ‘I want to figure out how these things are happening first.’
‘You mean it has happened before,’ Alex asked curiously, picking up on her use of the
plural.
‘You remember Dad’s toy yacht, that he spent weeks making with that balsa wood?’ she
said.
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‘You didn’t!’ Alex was concerned, as he knew their dad would go nuts.
‘I stepped on it when I was trying to reach something in the spare room, and broke the
masts and some other stuff,’ Hannah said quickly. ‘I panicked when I saw it, but now it is in
perfect condition. And look at this,’ she said as she held her hand out toward the wooden
pencil on the desk. As Alex turned to look, he could see the pencil jump toward her hand.
‘Cool!’ he said.
****
Carl Zabrosky had found a place to hide in a small copse of trees and shrubs, between the
road and Lake Michigan, but the three other kids chasing him had not yet given up. He
ducked his small frame down behind a laurel bush and waited. He was not particularly
frightened – more so resigned. It was common to have Polish and Hungarian parentage in
Chicago, but that was not the reason he was being bullied. He was small for his fourteen
It had been a tough start to his second high school in two months, having moved from the
opposite side of the city. He had tried to convince the Head that he did not start the fires in
the school, but she had not believed him, nor had his parents. All he knew was that things
happened when he was angry or scared, so now he tried to avoid trouble where possible.
The only thing was; other kids thought it was fun to chase him.
‘I am sure I saw him go in here,’ Carl could hear one of his hunters speak. He heard the
rustling about twenty feet away, and decided to climb the nearby chestnut tree. As he
clambered up, he heard the boys come closer and was more than fifteen feet up when he saw
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Sighing with relief, he clung tightly to the tree trunk, until a bluejay flew into the tree to
perch but, with the surprise of seeing Carl in the tree, shot off again cackling loudly.
‘He’s in the tree!’ came the inevitable shout. Carl had indeed been spotted. There followed
a barrage of small missiles, thrown by the boys on the ground, which did not bother him.
Until he was struck by a twelve inch branch. Having lost his grip on the trunk, Carl flailed his
arms about to try to grab a branch, but failed and fell, blacking out simultaneously.
When Carl came to, it was very bright. He thought he was in hospital, but then felt the
ground under him was very hard. Any there were a lot of people around him. As his eyes
adjusted to the light, he made out a badge on the jacket of the man nearest him. Chicago
‘How did you get up here, Son?’ the nearest man asked. He was middle-aged, kindly
‘Maintenance platform on top of the Sears Tower. How did you get up here?’ He was
more insistent this time. Carl followed him as indicated into the open plan maintenance room.
It was well-lit, but the sun was no longer hurting his eyes.
‘I fell out of a tree on Lake Shore Drive, Sir. I don’t know how I got up here. Someone
must have brought me here,’ Carl replied, even more confused. The mention of Lake Shore
Drive seemed to register with the officer, and he reached for his radio.
‘Sir, I have found that boy. Lake Shore Drive. Yes. Top of Sears Tower. Yes Sir, you
‘You have caused a bit of a stir in our Department, son,’ the Officer’s face had softened
again. ‘There are some government people on their way to meet us here. They’ll be here in a
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‘Please, Sir,’ Carl answered, before asking; ‘What happened? All I remember was some
‘The boys will be ok, some second degree burns, but not serious.’ The cop seemed to be
very interested in him. Looking around, Carl could make out seven other officers. Oddly,
they had their weapons drawn but seemed to be looking away, as if preparing for harm to
come from other directions. Strangely, he felt like he was being protected from something.
Carl could also see that the officer was not surprised that he did not query the burns the boys
suffered.
‘I’m Carl Zabrosky, Sir.’ He was reluctant to have silence around him as it gave him time
‘I know, Son. I’m Sergeant Billy Sullivan. Look, the suits are here,’ he added, seeing four
serious men in immaculate suits sweep into the room. ‘Make way, men,’ Sullivan indicated to
his officers to allow the government people to approach him and the boy. The leader was tall
‘Carl, I’m Tom Mann. Can I have a word with you in private?’ Mann introduced himself.
Mann indicated to the Chicago P.D officers to clear the room. The other three men stood
‘Listen, Carl. Those boys think I am FBI or CIA, but that suits me. It makes them a little
scared of me.’ Mann handed Carl a business card. It read Thomas Mann, Governor, De
Danann Institute for Gifted Children. There was a phone number on the card, but no address.
‘I met your parents today, Carl. We know you are a special kid, and you have been
enrolled in a new school where you will be with other kids like you.’ Mann looked like he
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‘I will tell you a bit more on the flight,’ Mann told him, put his arm over his shoulder, and
they made their way out. As they were leaving, Carl was looking at the front page of a copy
on the Irish Times newspaper under his arm, with a headline referring to a terrorist attack on
an airport in Ireland, where two terrorists had been killed, and wondered why he was carrying
Carl may have had more to concern himself with if he had seen that Lake Shore Drive had
been closed while the coroner was dealing with three charred bodies in the copse where he
****
Alex and Hannah had continued to explore their new found talents further, mainly by
playing pranks on each other. Alex had discovered he had the ability to cause a flame when
required, and had experimented with hilarious consequences. Hannah was able to control or
extinguish the flame, and was still working on moving objects with her mind. Most
interestingly, Alex, after one particularly successful prank, had found himself so elated and
relaxed, that he found he no longer had his feet on the floor. Somehow, he could float in the
air. But they had told neither of their parents, and were still reluctant to do so.
‘Hannah! Alex!’ their mum was calling them for dinner. Both made their way to the
kitchen and found both their parents sitting at the table. The meal had not yet been served.
‘Guys,’ Maria started. ‘School starts in two weeks,’ she paused, looking at their dad.
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‘What your mum wants to say, kids,’ Matt stepped in, ‘is that the two of you have been
acting a bit strange over the last couple of weeks. You have been avoiding your mother, and
we think you are hiding something from us. Is there something you want to tell us?’ He
waited.
Hannah and Alex looked at each other and then looked blankly at their father.
‘Maybe it was to do with the move,’ Maria started. ‘I know it is a bit of a wrench, but
Matt did not look convinced. From his years as a salesman for his previous engineering
company, he could tell body language, and he knew his kids were up to something. He
‘Whew! I thought we were in trouble then,’ she said to her brother. ‘Should we say
something?’
‘Yes.’ Alex was fed up with hiding from his parents. ‘What do we say?’
They both looked blankly at each other. Some serious thinking would have to be done.
****
Mann was grumpy again. He had just landed at the airport with his team of three guys, and
there was nobody there to meet them. Due to some fault with the mobile piers, he had to exit
the plane on to the ground and walk to the terminal, and had to endure the blast of over one
hundred degree heat in his lungs, having come out of the air conditioned plane. Next, his
guys had to wait for clearance from the US consul for their weapons to be released to them,
and there were queues of tourists at all the car hire desks.
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He eventually got a space at the Hertz desk and booked a minivan. He was pleased that
their English was better than his Spanish, as he could have ended up with a Mini otherwise.
As he made his way to pick up the Seat Alhambra, he was joined by his team, who had just
got their guns. They had no luggage as they were not expecting to stay overnight. As they
reached their vehicle, they were met by two Spanish men in Guardia Civil uniforms, who
‘Boss, these guys will bring us down to see the girl. We’re too late,’ Agent Hernandez
said. Hernandez was going to be useful here, being Mexican, as he could speak fluent
Spanish.
‘I guessed as much. She was too obvious,’ Mann replied. ‘Let’s go.’
They got into their vehicle and followed the Guardia out of the airport. Following them up
the Taxi lane, they took a shortcut out of the one-way system and found the duel carriageway
heading south. After a couple of roundabouts, Mann had to start fiddling with the controls to
find out how to switch on the air conditioning – they were starting to bake in the minivan.
After going through some scenery, cacti and palm trees, that reminded him of his
hometown of Phoenix, Arizona, the idle chat in the vehicle stopped as they came by the lava
fields. All heads turned to look out at the desolate landscape, the lack of vegetation or life in
the lava field made one think that the eruption was recent, though it had been almost two
‘Hernandez, can we do a tour of the lava fields when we are done with the girl?’ Mann
asked.
‘Of course, Sir,’ Hernandez replied. He knew Mann would tell him the reason when it was
time.
They reached Playa Blanca about fifteen minutes later, turned left through the town, and
before long, they were driving on a dirt track. It took a further ten minutes on the track before
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they came to a stop in a small car park on a hill. The view was breathtaking; a small sandy
cove lay before them, surrounded on both sides by rocky outcrops, with clear blue sea in front
of them, with the view of the island of Fuerteventura in the distance. The only things to mar
the beauty of the location was the blue and white police tape all over the place, what must
have been over forty police officials all over the place, the rigid inflatable dinghy speeding
around the entrance to the cove, and the helicopter doing a grid pattern search overhead.
One of the Guardia pointed to rocks to the side of the cove. They made their way down.
As they were climbing down the steep slope, Mann was curious about the circumstances of
what happened.
‘Well, there is a bit of confusion. From what the Spanish guys can make out, the girl was
here with her family during the week. She kept disappearing, as in vanishing into thin air,
over the last few days, but re-appearing within minutes. People said they could hear noise and
‘Next thing, a couple of guys turned up, fully dressed, on the beach. They tried to shoot
her, but she pulled one of her vanishing acts, and the two guys were injured – we don’t know
how. Then they say another woman appeared, out of thin air. Apparently she was standing on
‘How did you know? A weird one, with a big round sphere on the end. She stuck in into
the ground, and they say everything froze solid, the sea, the rock, the sand. Then the girl re-
appeared on the rock, frozen solid.’ Hernandez saw that Mann did not look remotely
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They came to the body, lying in a small crack in the rocks to the right of the inlet. It was
quite tricky to keep foothold, as the rocks were still greasy from the melted frost. It still felt
cold.
Mann looked at the body. She looked so small and so young. She was fair haired, dressed
lightly, and still blue from having been frozen solid. There were some minor cuts and bruises
on her, which may have come from her battle with her enemy. He shook his head.
‘What next, Boss?’ asked Merryman, another of Mann’s team, who had been taking things
‘We ship the body out, do our post mortem, and give her back to her parents’, Mann
‘More than they are letting on’, Merryman answered, watching Hernandez making
arrangements with the Guardia. ‘Germans, they knew about her abilities.’
‘You and Murphy find out what they know, and report back to me. Tell her we will make
the arrangements to fly the body back to Germany for them’, Mann instructed his men. ‘Can
you travel with the Spanish? I want to take the minivan and check something out.’
****
Alex and Hannah’s parents were still stunned. They had told them four hours earlier, both
having given them a small demonstration, and then left to let their parents to talk among
themselves.
Following the inevitable questions about how, when, what, nobody asked why.
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Dinner came and passed and they were still stuck for words. The only discussion was what
53