Gail Wagner

Sea of Despair

Chapter 1

 

The wind blew Trevor’s hair into his face.  I have got to get a haircut, this is getting ridiculous.  He raised his arms and whispered the spell that would take them to the Burren; the one place he didn’t care to go.  The sun fell below the horizon as the dolmen flashed with dark colors, swirling toward the center.

 

“Good job Trevor,” Brea said before stepping through.  Orin followed and Trevor jumped through after him, making it just before the spell ended.  They were spit out the other end, all managing to land on their feet.  Practice makes perfect.

He couldn’t help but flash back to the last time they had come here and shuddered.  He and Brea had barely made it out of the cave in time to stop Caoranach from being released.  Now they were back to make good on their promise to the wraith horses.

 

When they had helped them get to the caves, Orin had told them he would release them from their servitude to the Dullahan’s wraith Calvary…though without the horses they wouldn’t be much of a Calvary.

 

Orin cleared his throat and pulled out a corked wine bottle.  Though the purplish liquid sloshing inside resembled the original contents, it was anything but.  It cast a faint glow on Orin’s hands as he tugged at the cork. 

 

“Got the bowl?” he asked Brea, who pulled out a large shallow bowl and set it on the ground in front of him.  He popped the cork and poured the potion into it and stepped back.  “Now we just have to wait for the calvary.”

 

Brea shivered as the wind picked up, stepping closer to Trevor.  He wrapped an arm around her, careful to keep a proper distance.  The hair on the back of his neck began to stand on end and he knew the wraiths were on their way.  The first time had been bad enough but this would be worse.  How would the wraiths react when they figured out they were trying to take their horses from them?

 

The sight of a platoon’s worth of ghost soldiers riding jet black, red eyed horses was enough to freak anyone out.  He was struck by how young some of the riders appeared.  With their varying styles of dress ranging from togas to modern jeans they looked like they had stepped out of a costume shop…if you could look past the fact that you could look through them.

 

Orin raised his arms and the riders slowed to a stop.  The leader glared at Orin, his eyes still empty and gray.  If possible he looked even more ragged than the last time.  He pointed away in his customary warning.  Orin ignored him and called to the horses.

 

“My friends see I keep my word.  I have brought you some of the potion from the cauldron.  I should release you from this life of pain,” he said.  Beside Trevor, Brea rolled her eyes.  Orin sure could be pompous, especially when his Blarney stone gift of persuasion kicked in.  Before their masters could stop them several of the lead horses rushed forward and took a drink from the bowl.

 

Trevor waited for the accompanying shower of violet sparks that had accompanied the banshees’ transformation, but nothing happened.  One of the horses snorted and shook his head.  The soldiers reined them in and galloped away.

 

“Well, that was anti-climactic,” Brea said, pulling away from Trevor.  Orin stared at the empty space in front of him and then back at the bottle still in his hand.  “Did they say anything before they left?”

 

“Thanks for nothing,” he said.  Brea giggled then bit her lip to stop when he looked over at her.  “I don’t understand what went wrong.  I had Abiageal brew it exactly the same as last time.  It should have worked.”

 

Brea eyed the remaining potion in the bowl.  “I don’t know.  It’s not like they’re in the same circumstance.  The banshees weren’t born that way, someone made them.  How are the horses created?  Maybe you need to learn more about them before you go messing with things.  What if you make it worse somehow?”

 

Orin glared at her, crossing his arms.  “Thanks ever so much sis.  I appreciate the confidence.”

 

Trevor stepped forward.  “I think she meant that before you can help these creatures out, you might need to know how they got there in the first place.”

 

Pacified, Orin dropped his arms.  “I suppose you’re right, but where am I supposed to find that kind of information?”

 

Brea shrugged.  “Abiageal?  I mean if anyone would have a book about the history of the wraiths it would be her.”

 

Orin’s eyes sparkled at the thought of a new excuse to bury himself in ancient texts.  “Yes, I’m sure that’s the answer.”

He turned his back on them and marched to the dolmen.  Brea and Trevor exchanged a glance that said, ‘here we go again’ and followed him.