Molly McCormack & the Legend of Tir na nOg

Epilogue- Into the Woods

Trees and branches went by at a rapid pace. His footsteps thundered against the ground frantically eating up distance. He had to get to the water's edge. There wasn't much time. His small legs carried him as quickly as they had ever had. Dashing left and right through thicket and brush, he ran at a breakneck speed. Branches tore at his clothing, his exposed legs bled with every encounter of stick and thistle and his hair was a matte of sweat. He ran as if the devil himself was at his heels. Air burst forth from his mouth in angry gasps as he propelled himself forward. Each turn around a tree brought hope that the small clearing that rested at the water's edge would come into vision.

He risked a glance into the sky. Darkness had settled quickly on the land and the moonlight hung brilliant in the night sky. It's small light helped him make his way through the thickness of trees and brush, but also risked his exposure. He must not get caught. Not now. Not now that everything hung in the balance.

He rounded a great tree and stumbled on some exposed roots. Landing hard on the ground, he skidded forward against dirt, leaves, and fallen branches. When his body finally came to a halt, he tried to raise himself on his arms, but found he was unable. The run, taking all his strength had left him with nothing more to give. He wept out loud for a moment before gathering his resolve. He could not fail now. He would not.

Looking into the distance, he thought perhaps the trees appeared to thin. That gave him the additional strength he needed. Slowly, but determinedly, he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled forward. Scratched, bruised, and battered, he pulled himself forward from tree trunk to tree trunk. He rested upon one to wipe the sweat that poured along his brow. He was right. The clearing was just ahead. With his last ounce of strength, he burst through a mass of thickets before falling forward into the clearing and onto the water's edge.

He lay on his back gasping for air. He took a moment, thankful to have finally reached the clearing. Thankful he had not been caught. Thankful he had arrived in time. He pushed back his sweat-laden hair and looked to his left.

He was not alone.

Next to him, quietly undisturbed stood a large black beast of a horse lapping water from the stream's edge. Even in the quietness of this night, the dark horse's presence was still forbidding. He was a fearful creature.

Lorcan wet his lips before speaking. His voice was dry and gravelly. "Master. I fear for us. Nothing is as it should be."

The magnificent horse lifted its head and looked directly at Lorcan still lying at the muddied shore. He watched him there for what seemed an interminable amount of time. Then the horse seemed to shudder as if reacting to the sound of a loud gun shot. After the shudder had quivered throughout the body of the beast, the skin of the horse glistened and turned. It twisted grotesquely like an image in a freak show mirror. Turning and twisting, it shifted and contorted until finally a cloaked man stood quietly before him. The final incarnation was tall, dark, and powerful. His piercing eyes looked over the fragile spent form of Lorcan. The man lay his head left and then right, trying to work out the final twinges of his shape-shifting change from horse to man. A diabolical smile graced his lips as he turned away from Lorcan to the water's edge. His eyes scanned the aged wood of the forest.

"No, my loyal servant. Things could not have ended better."

Lorcan looked confused, but no explanation was forthcoming. The man glanced into the still waters at his feet. The moonlight shined brilliantly and cast a reflection of the man's image into the shallow recesses of the water. Another smile crossed his lips as he caught his own image. In his true incarnation, he was fearful to look at. Sallowed and horned, his face held angular hollowed eyes and severely structured bone features. His hands, exposed from his cloak were twisted and clawed. The pookha was a dangerous creature upon any land. And his day was coming for this one.

He brought up his hand and dangled before him a locket of an ancient order. It twisted at the end of its chain as if trying to wrench itself away from his evil grasp. Lord Lorcan eyed the locket carefully. Could it be? He pushed himself up onto his feet and stood dwarfed besdide the man.

"Lord Killian, what is your command?"