Mistfall(Book One of the Mistfall Series)

12. Holy Heimdall Batman!





Weapons, as I’ve stated, can only be made and not created by magic. The Dwarves of Elemental Deep forged all weapons for Otherworlders. Their home was a fissure in the ground that was exposed to all of the elements: earth, air, fire, and water. It was a nexus of magical power that imbued each weapon with the strength needed for Otherworlder use.

To harm one of us, a weapon had to also penetrate the magic of the person. The weaponry of Elemental Deep possessed that ability. The dwarves had a scientific explanation for it, but Holy Hades it was boring.

The explosive devices I had fit on the wall of the oubliette where the door forms, therefore, were almost useless. They would, however, cause a nice, loud distraction. The smoke I had added to them would allow me to leave the oubliette without being seen.

My plan also included for anyone with an invisible barrier. I had learned from my previous assault on Abel that the barrier only worked for a frontal attack, so I put a short delay on the timer. If he came prancing through the doorway, I wanted him in front of the door. Hopefully he would turn towards the sound of the explosion, exposing his unprotected side for attack.

Now all I had to do was wait. Having to be ready to go at all times left you with little else to do and I’m not that patient of a person. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long.

Two hours later, the entrance appeared. Luca strolled in, flanked by two bodyguards. I wasn’t expecting him, but the shame he would experience because of a girl besting the king’s son made my vindictive side jump up and down with glee.

I took a good look at him. He was dressed in black fatigues, standard Aelfadl uniform. His hair was slightly disheveled and shadowy lines were just beginning to form under his Caribbean blue-green eyes. He had not only his father’s looks, but his manipulative jackassery too.

“I need to talk to you,” Luca said, stepping forward.

I put my hand out towards him in a warning to stop his advance. “Not in the mood dirt bag.”

“Please, just hear me out,” he pleaded.

I smiled, my cockiness shining through, like a beam from a lighthouse, as I counted down. “Captive audience or not, I don’t have the time for whatever it is you have to say. I have plans in 5…4...3...2...”

Luca realized what I was up to before his bodyguards did and dropped into a ball on the floor. The explosion went off, shaking the walls of my cave-like prison. Heavy smoke filled the air, creating a grey, impenetrable curtain. Anyone who wasn’t smart enough to wear ear protection, like my three intruders, was certainly having some hearing problems from the concussive blast.

I took my cue and made a break for it, purposefully stepping on Luca’s outstretched hand before dashing past the two guards on either side of the doorway.

I had to make it out of the dungeons quickly. Without plans I could get lost very easily, making my attempt at freedom an exercise in futility.

A steep, narrow staircase awaited me as I exited the oubliette. I ran up the stairs, two at a time, hastening my ascent. Upon reaching the top, I found myself in a corridor of cells. Prisoners banged objects against the bars in a united cacophony, cheering for me as I made my way past them.

Some of the other incarcerated Otherworlders begged me to free them too. I didn’t dare turn my attention to them, lest my heart betray me. If I stopped to look I was afraid of what I might see.

As it was, I couldn’t turn off my ears. I heard a baby wailing in one of the cells and a child begging their mother for food. I glanced. Big mistake. These weren’t thieves or murderers. They were parents, mothers, fathers, children, etc. Whole families were being held down here. What kind of man would do this to people?

A hand managed to grab a hold of my arm, stopping me dead in my tracks.

“Won’t you help us miss?” a middle aged man asked me.

There was a pang of guilt stabbing me in my soul. I didn’t have the luxury of time to help the prisoners. I felt for these people, but if I stopped now I surely would be caught. Then what good would I be to anyone?

The man who had a hold of me was a gypsy. Damned by consequence to roam the Earth, being neither human nor Otherworlder, they were the offspring of humans and Fae. The Fae did not discriminate with whom they bred with. Occasionally, that meant humans.

“I’m sorry, truly I am, but I’m about to have the full wrath of Abel on my heels if I don’t leave now,” I told the man.

He let go of my hand. “My people can see the truth Magdalene Maguire, the impossible child.”

One of a gypsy’s attributes was seeing the truth. Another trait was knowing how a person’s life would unfold. And here I thought my existence was one big secret this whole time. What was with the impossible child mantra? That’s twice I’ve been referenced as such.

“You will come back to us in time and rescue our people, but to which future?” he mused.

I put my hands on the cold, iron bars of the man’s cell and put my head as close to his as I could so I wouldn’t be overheard. “I haven’t figured out how to change that outcome yet, but I will,” I promised him.

The old gypsy looked at me fondly, as if he knew me well. “Relax miss, I accuse you of nothing. Take this.” The man turned from me and moved towards the back of his cell. Using a hand carved walking stick, he poked the cold, grey stone of the cell wall, revealing a hidden compartment.

Removing a sword, he then turned back to me. “I took this weapon from a guard during a rather physical inquisition a few weeks ago,” he explained. “I saw a young woman in a vision who might have need of it.” The man then handed me the sword with a wink.

Shouting erupted behind me, breaking up the conversation. Luca had appeared at the other end of the corridor and was running straight for me.

I turned to the man as I took off. “Thank you and I promise I will come back.”

“Magdalene!” the man shouted from behind me. “You always have a choice.”

There wasn’t time to go back and ask the man what he meant. Luca was gaining on me. Aside from the two trainees Abel sent to subdue me previously, I had never taken on one of the Aelfadl before. Outsmarting them had been the desired way of dealing with them in the past. I wasn’t sure if I would succeed or not, let alone with their leader.


Thankfully, I didn’t have to find out. A door to my left opened, revealing one very surprised guard. I hit him hard in the head with the hilt of my recently procured sword. His skull made a sickening crunch, like biting into a piece of celery, as he fell to the floor. I leaped over the crumpled body and headed in the new direction, hoping it would lead me somewhere I wanted to go.

I found myself on an empty catwalk that led from the dungeons to the castle grounds. Stone arches lined either side, forming glassless windows. Taking a look out of one, I found myself ten feet above the ground. Below me laid scattered shrubs interspersed with jagged rock that promised to flay anyone who fell upon them. I could hear voices nearing my location from both ends of the walkway. With only moments to decide whether to try my hand at entering the castle or jumping out the window, I chose the window.

My heels stung as I hit the ground. As I rolled away, my upper arm caught on one of the sharp stones, slicing it open like a surgeon’s scalpel. Blood flowed freely down my arm. In times like these, it was good to be an Otherworlder. If I was human, the injury might have been life threatening. Even now, just moments after being cut, I could feel my skin knitting itself back together. In another fifteen minutes, the only tell tale signs would be a red and angry scar. By tomorrow, even that would be gone.

Looking up, I saw Luca staring back at me. A strand of blonde hair was dangling over his brow as he decided whether or not to leap out of the window and chase me down. I made a rude gesture at him and took off before he made up his mind.

I had been expecting far more resistance in leaving the castle. What I didn’t take into consideration was that Abel was such a cocky a*shole that he didn’t think it necessary to guard his prisoners as well as he should have. Not that I’m complaining.

I ran hard and fast, putting as much distance as I could between the castle and myself. Once I was far enough away, I used Hailz’s compass to get my bearings. We (John, Melissa, Hailz, and I) had agreed to meet at a cave that had once been used by pirates to smuggle contraband. It laid five miles southwest of Abel’s castle. I was currently standing a mile northeast. It would take me longer to skirt around Abel’s land, but I was free and that was something.

I had never been in Ireland before, so I stopped for a few minutes to take in the scenery. The view was breathtaking. Every shade of green possible covered the land. It was no wonder this place was nicknamed The Emerald Isle. The Elves are tied to this magical land, John’s eyes being evidence of it.

One day I may just return here for fun and not imprisonment, I thought. There was a human town not too far away. Vibrant houses of red, yellow, and blue lined its streets. The fog-laden mountains in the background and the stormy ocean to the right marked the town’s terminus. It was the mountain, however, that I have distaste for. Don’t get me wrong, it was beautiful and all, but I was going to have to climb that sucker to get to where I was going.

I contemplated going back through Abel’s lands to get to the cave, though ultimately I decided against it. It was small as far as mountain ranges go, but it was a mountain nonetheless.

“You’re mine now,” I threatened the behemoth.





At the base of the mountain there was an old Celtic pathway, obscured by moss, which led to the top. The path was still negotiable, so I chose to follow it in hopes of cutting some time off my journey.

A few miles in and place stones, carvings, and other assorted Celtic art, worn down by the years, marked the walkway. The landmarks made it easier for me to negotiate my way as the overgrowth began to grow thick. Thick, knotty vines, shrubs, and carpets of moss and lichen obscured the ancient pathway.

The Celts had been a human civilization long ago. Their druids believed certain formations in the Earth were holy places, sacred to the gods. Unfortunately, nine times out of ten, the druids had only stumbled upon some Otherworlder’s land.

Regular sacrifices of fruit and meat by the druids, led some of the Otherworlders to keep the ruse up. Hey, who doesn’t want a free meal?

Over time, Otherworlders began to shrink back from civilization due to human ignorance. The humans, thinking they had angered the gods, stepped up their sacrifices. Instead of fruit and animal, they began slaughtering their own kind. Disgusted and fearful of the gods’ wrath for allowing such a thing to happen, Otherworlders retracted from civilization, creating the first Mistfall. Though long gone, some of the Otherworlder’s ancient security spells still left echoes upon their lands.

The Celtic landmarks were not just road signs. If you knew how to read them, and I did, they tell you where all the booby traps are. Vines with withered tendrils attempted to trip me as I stepped over and around them. A swamp, with its deceiving carpet of peat moss, burped up balls of orange plasma. Once upon a time, those balls of plasma would lead a traveler astray, like a mysterious, bobbing candlelight in the night air. Now the balls of light just flickered and sputtered out.

Whoever owned this land was long gone. Its last traveler hadn’t trekked this land in over a century. The magic of the place dying out tended to happen upon human lands that once belonged to Otherworlders. Humans replaced our magic with their own powers of science and industry, relegating Otherworlders to the realm of myth.

Halfway up, the path leveled off into a grassy plateau. Teeming with life, trees, birds, and other assorted flora and fauna were just as at home here as they were in the valley below. The magic here was palpable, unlike the path I had just followed up.

Not too far in front of me a woman, with her back turned, sat on her heels speaking to a dying sapling. She was the source of the magic that powered this ancient plateau. I knelt in submission immediately. I had a very good idea of who the woman was though I couldn’t see her face. Then again, it could also be some random Otherworlder. Either way, when approached with the situation of a possible god, you bow anyway. Better to look like a fool rather than face a god’s wrath for disrespect.

“Ah, a visitor,” the woman said, turning to me. It was the Goddess Brigid. As the triple Goddess, she was maiden, mother, and crone. I was in awe looking at her. She appeared as the maiden. No, the crone. I blink my eyes and look again and she appears as the mother. She is one and all. Had I been human I would have gone insane from viewing the Goddess in her current form. As an Otherworlder it was easier, but still unsettling.

Brigid sensed my unease and dampened her image, though she was no less breathtaking. The maiden stood in front of me, a head of red hair engulfing her in a fiery halo. Her rosy-toned skin sported no blemishes or unevenness. She was, in a word, perfection.

“Lady Brigid,” I responded. “I did not know you walked the land.”

The Goddess smiled in approval. “Stand Magdalene. You’ve given me the respect due. No need to stay there like the groveling beggars tend to do.”

Two wrought iron chairs and a table appeared before Brigid. She gestured me forward to take a seat as I rose to my feet.

“Chai tea and cinnamon rolls I believe?” she asked as I sat.

“Yes my lady, thank you.”

A mug of hot tea, the steam swirling as it rose, and a gooey cinnamon roll popped into existence before me. I sipped the spicy tea and was in heaven. The taste of Cinnamon, cardamom, and clove drove images of autumn leaves and Halloween through my head.

“The tea reminds me of that too,” Brigid responded to my thoughts. “Such a wonderful time of year, yet a dangerous one for Otherworlders as well.”


I nodded in agreement as it was true. Our magic briefly intensified around Halloween. Sometimes there would be one jackass who acted as if we’d fed a gorilla steroids. Said jackassery led to many a war being started on Halloween.

FYI-If you ever meet one of the gods, listen attentively. They rarely waste words and everything they say has importance.

“Did you know that my brothers, sisters, and I used to walk freely on the Earth?” she asked me.

“Willa always told me there was truth in all stories, my lady,” I replied.

Brigid frowned. “Yes, stories. As you become myth amongst the humans, we disappear from the world altogether.” She pointed a long red fingernail at me. “But you…you believe. You even showed me reverence.”

She turned in a complete circle, gesturing to everything around her. “The Fae, this island, and the Celts were my own creation,” she beamed. “I once lived amongst them too. Druids would climb the very mountain path you have traveled to listen to my counsel, give me offerings, and bring the prayers of the people. In return for their adoration, I helped my children. I would make crops grow when there was no rain. Prayers were answered for those who could not handle the challenges life brought them. I was good to them.”

Brigid paused to swipe at the cream cheese frosting of one of the rolls with her index finger. As she licked the rich and delicious frosting off her finger, I noticed her expression change. Brigid’s pale, sky blue eyes turned stormy and her plump pink lips turned downward as she continued on with her story.

“Over time we were forgotten or replaced with deities our children made up,” she lamented. “Only my children, the Fae, still believed in us. Occasionally prayers and wishes were made to us from desperate men, though they didn’t believe or show us the respect due. We became grieved and angry as they fought wars in our names but without our blessings.”

A single tear rolled down Brigid’s cheek, like a prism. Every color of the rainbow was reflected in the wet drop as it tumbled down her face and onto the ground. Her sadness was affecting me as well. A heaviness deposited itself, like a boulder, in the pit of my stomach. I felt as if my soul was being torn from me, piece by piece.

“One day, my brothers, sisters, and I withdrew from the world completely,” she despaired. The humans called that era The Dark Ages. Aside from the Fae, we never showed our faces again. Once in awhile, one of our children would remember and love us. To them we would show favor, but stayed hidden where none but us could go.”

The sky began to darken and thunder rumbled across the sky. I looked up to see the grey-blue of Brigid’s eyes now appearing in the clouds that rolled in. Her sadness had become so great that it was now affecting everything. I battled to maintain my composure as the heaviness in the pit of my stomach became a cannibalistic black hole.

“It wasn’t until the nineteenth century, as you call it, that we returned to this world,” she informed me. “Our children no longer fought falsely in our name. They now fought in their own names, elevating themselves as the new gods and goddesses.”

Anger quickly replaced despair. I suddenly felt the need to put my fist through the table we were sitting at as Brigid’s mood changed. “We wanted to end the existence of this world and start anew,” she spat and began shouting. “We hadn’t abandoned them. They abandoned all of us!”

The earth shook beneath my feet, Brigid’s wrath threatening to split it apart. Her mood had caused so many physiological changes in me that my body was beginning to short circuit. My heart was pounding as fast as a jackhammer, the sound of it throbbing in my ears. Tears fell freely as I struggled for breath, the extreme anxiety causing the feeling of a boa constrictor tightening itself against my ribs.

“My…my…lady,” I rasped. “Brigid!” I didn’t mean to use her name so casually, but I was on the verge of my heart exploding and desperate times call for desperate measures. She returned her focus to me, her mood lightening in response to my impending cardiac failure.

Her eyes returned to their sky blue color, the clouds dispersed and the sun shone once again. “My apologies, it’s been quite some time since I’ve been around one of our children,” she mused. I’m guessing that’s my apology, I thought.

“Where was I?” she asked. I couldn’t answer as I was sucking down welcomed gasps of air. “Oh yes, now I remember,” she replied to herself. “We wanted to destroy this corrupt world. Our children had broken our hearts, save one.” Brigid clasped both her hands at her breast. “One voice called out to us. One heart still sang our praises, so we listened.” That voice gave us hope. If one of our children could pull at our heartstrings, perhaps it was possible the rest could love us once again. You know how the rest of the story goes.”

She had finished her story and not too soon either. I didn’t know if my body could take anymore of the emotional rollercoaster Brigid was capable of causing in me.

My heart went out to her as I wept (The feelings, this time, being all mine). How did we, both humans and Otherworlders, have the knowledge to touch the stars AND the ignorance to think the moon was made out of cheese?

“You shed tears for us Magdalene. I wonder if the rest of them do,”

I didn’t dare speak. When in a god’s presence was the only time I was willing to ‘speak only when spoken to.’ It was a good thing I kept my lips zipped. Brigid wasn’t done yet.

“We gave the world one saving grace. As of late, it seems if they’re hell-bent on destroying it,” she said.

Finally, she was done. “Yes my lady, that is true,” I said in reply to her last comment. “We may not be where you and the others would like us to be, but I have to believe all is not lost.” I wasn’t too sure if I believed my own statement, but I was willing to defend my world to keep it from the fiery hell I’ve been accused of causing in the future.

Brigid looked at me as if she was just now noticing me. She was sizing me up, deciding if I was worthy of living. Death would be more palatable than another one of her harm-inducing diatribes. I was spared another near heart attack.

“You should probably stand,” she told me.

I did as I was directed and with that, she was gone.

“What? No goodbye?” I asked the empty space.

A shiny metal object flew out of the heavens and landed inches from me, the pointy end impaled in the earth. It was a gift and a rebuke. The rebuke was for my sarcasm. Note taken!

I inspected the object. It was a sword, but not just any sword. “No, it can’t be,” I exclaimed in awe. But it was. Hofuo, the legendary sword of Heimdall lay before me.

Short version-Heimdall was the god who guarded the entry to Valhalla, where warriors who died in battle went to spend the afterlife.

I really don’t know how to explain being given Hofuo in relative terms. It was like the best Christmas Day ever. Imagine a regular sword as a Buick. It’s reliable, well-built, and everyone has one. Hofuo was like the Batmobile. It was fast as lightening, strong as steel, and with the added ability to inflict destruction. It was freaking awesome!!!

As I reached for it, I noticed a tag attached to it. I flipped the card over and read what was printed on it: Do. Not. Lose. This. –H

“Consider me warned,” I directed to the sky which rumbled in return.


Sword in hand, it adjusts itself to my size. It’s feather-light and easy to maneuver with. I know it can slice through the strongest steel like butter. What I was really looking forward to was testing out some of the myths Hofuo was rumored to be capable of.

The land I was standing on had died since Brigid’s departure only minutes ago. What had been alive and flourishing was now gone. The moss covered pathway that I was standing on was the only sign of life left on this barren plateau.

I didn’t know how much time had passed while I was with Brigid. Time acted strangely around us Otherworlders. I could only guess as to what it would do around the gods.

The sun was high in the sky, signifying mid-day. Either time had stood still or days could have passed. At least I hoped it was only days. Regardless, I was wasting time thinking about it. There would be a feisty Ifrit to deal with if I kept Hailz waiting too long, so on I went.