It was like when I was Nuada, except, this time it was much more personal, because I had become my father. It was like riding inside a vehicle except that all my senses were wired in with those of my father. I was and was not my father. It was an identity crisis that I was hoping not to face for a number of years.

“So,” I said in my father’s voice pointing a finger at a particular spot on a big map stretched out before us.

“The Dark Wizard, is generally in this part of the compound at twenty five hundred hours.”

“He takes a dump, every night, right after midnight?” said Fiacuil. I had seen him in his wild state. Here, he had a neatly trimmed beard, a form fitting barrette and seemed much more respectable however, he still had those hungry, insane eyes.

“Our intelligence places him on the throne for one half hour, exactly.”

“It takes him half an hour for him to take a dump?” asked Fiacuil in sudden admiration. “What does the guy eat?”

“At least we don’t have to worry about him shitting himself, when we show up in the wee hours of the morning, then,” said Goll. There was a merry light in his eye, both his eyes.

I smiled, or rather, my father smiled at Goll. It was odd to be smiling at the man who would kill my father. I noticed he had short cropped hair and was devoid of his man-bun. I suppose the questions about his masculinity came later.

“That’ll be the least of his worries…” growled a bald soldier who was burning holes in the map with his eyes. “We can’t kill him, but would it matter if we broke his legs?”

“It would matter to me,” said a red haired woman whom I immediately knew as Birghid, at least she looked a lot like her.

That was strange…I wonder. I looked closely at her features. She had the same sculpted nose and chin as H. I wanted to ask her if she had a sister, two sisters, but was unable to make my father’s vocal cords work for me.

“Red has a point,” I said. “No breaking legs. He’ll be harder to transport, however, I don’t think it would matter much if he couldn’t hold a pen.”

The big bald headed soldier gave a twisted, misshapen grin that made my skin crawl. This fellow must have been used to hurting people and I didn’t trust him, and strangely enough neither did my dad.

There were two other soldiers in the room, but they were back in the shadows so I couldn’t see them clearly. I noticed that no one had any insignias on their black uniforms. Even so I knew my dad was their Captain. He had the easy way of someone who was confident in command, that whatever his orders were they would be followed. You would expect them to be loyal, but they weren’t. I could feel the emotional misgivings of my father towards Goll, the bald fellow and the shadowy two.

“So, we go in tactical,” I continued to explain, “drop from the helicopters here…”

“Do you think they’ll be any resistance? Any traps?” asked Fiacuil.

“If things go the way they should,” I said, “this should be text book.”

“Which means, expect traps,” said Goll.

“Absolutely,” I responded. “The problem is we don’t know what type of traps to expect.”

“The Dark Wizard’s dossier says he specializes in deception and illusion. He likes to play with his targets before killing them. His kill rate is exceptional,” said Goll with a little too much admiration I thought, as did my dad.

“So, let’s hope our intelligence is secure,” I growled looking at Goll. “Operation Dark Wizard is an in and out affair, no tourism.” The two soldiers in the shadows shifted.

“Yes, Captain,” came the gruff course of support, although I didn’t believe them. My dad believed Red and Fiacuil, but not the others, not in the least.

“We’ve got exactly thirty minutes before we go. So, if you have some last minute rituals you want to engage in, best do it now. Goll, I couldn’t get you a goat to sacrifice, but I did get a chicken.”

Goll frowned. “I was hoping for a bull, Captain, but a chicken will do.”

It was a joke, right. It must have been.

I found myself alone in the dark. In my hands was a locket. I opened it and looked down. Inside were two pictures, one of my mom and one of a young boy. It felt so bizarre, to be looking at myself through my dad’s eyes. There was a rustling sound of someone coming into the room, so I closed the locket and turned around.

It was Birghid, and she did not look happy.

“Captain,” she said after some a halting moment.

“Spit it out, Red,” I said, “if it were best said, it’s best said now.”

She grinned at that, and then the smile faded replaced by some colder purpose. “They’re going to try to kill you tonight.”

“The Dark Wizard doesn’t know…”

“No, I mean, your men. Goll wants to be Captain, and the only way for that to happen is if you are out of the way. He’s going to try to kill you, tonight.”

I shrugged. “I expected it. He always wanted to be Captain. When I was given the commission he resented it. It’s an old clan feud between Baiscne and Morna. I suppose tonight is as good a time for him to try.”

“You knew?” said Birghid in surprise.

“I do.”

Both of us said the next thing simultaneously: “Then have him charged, arrested, thrown in jail.”

I felt my father’s shoulders rise and fall, and I knew he wasn’t going to listen. He draped an arm around Birghid’s shoulders. “Listen, my pulse, when you’ve eaten of the salmon of knowledge you know a lot of things, many of which you have no idea how to prove, or to explain.”

“Well, if you’re not going to do something about it,” she said defiantly. “I am.”

I held up my hand. “As Captain of the Finnan Finn, I command you to do nothing.”

“He’s going to kill you,” she said almost desperately now, “and you’re going to let him?”

I had to agree with her, letting Goll kill me – my dad was insane. Then I was shaking my head with silent knowledge. “He will try, but he will not succeed.”

“The salmon told you this?”

“I just know it.” I looked down at my watch. “It’s time to go.”

Even though Red seemed somewhat comforted, I wasn’t, because somewhere deep down in my thoughts there lurk a shadowy spectre of pure malevolence and he was dragging around a big scythe.

The flight was exhilarating. I had constantly seen the helicopters around base hovering and darting about like wasps, and the one we were in was really fast. The Black Hawk flew just above the dry earth of the wadi and then shot up over the bank into the open. We were there, hovering over the compound of the Dark Wizard. Our response was lightening. I nodded to Fiacuil and he was out and rappelling down a line. I followed, while from the other side of the helicopter dropped Goll and the other men, like spiders on a thread.

Our night vision goggles turned everything into monochromatic shades of green. Goll and the others hit the ground and scattered, disappearing into the buildings. Their objective was to enter the compound proper and neutralize any threats.

The comm was open and I waited for a report or the sound of gun fire. When I didn’t hear either the sensation of dread flooded through my – dad’s body.

“Goll, come in. Can you hear me? Are you compromised?”

There was nothing but the preternatural silence of white snow static.

“Something is wrong. Red, with me, Fiacuil, cover us.”

“Roger that,” growled Fiacuil. “Just so that you know, I smell a trap and it stinks of Morna not Dark Wizard.”

I knew my dad agreed with his friend as we moved into the main building of the dark compound. Where were the fighters? The only reason for their absence was that we were expected. The Dark Wizard was a terrorist that most countries had been hunting for close to a decade. It was a great surprise when he was located, using spy drones, holed up in a country that was supposed to be one of our allies. My dad thought it too easy.

According to the schematics, we would have to go up a steep stairwell to get the Dark Wizard’s throne room. Outside, the helicopter circled looking for something or someone to shoot.

Then the comm abruptly came to life with the strangely muffled sound of rifle fire. Given our proximity the shots should have sounded louder, much louder.

“They’ve got us pinned down outside the throne room,” panted Goll. “You were right. It was a trap. Soldier down, he’s bleeding badly. We need Red.”

I felt my father fighting the rush of adrenaline that was streaming into his veins. It took everything he could to suppress the sudden desire to rush up the stairs and into the fire fight. He knew there was more going on here than what was on the surface. The problem was his options and response was being dictated to. I wanted to scream at him not to go up those stairs, to back away and leave Goll to his fate. ‘Get out,’ I was screaming in his head, ‘Get out, now!’

Fiacuil’s voice broke in through the noise on the comm. “Stay on the stairs,” he shouted (At least someone was making sense). “I’ll be there, just hold on.”

Goll’s panicked voice, surrounded by a hail storm of rifle fire, broke in, this time much louder and more insistent. “I’m hit. I’m hit. They’re everywhere…”

I felt my dad’s blood surge into his head, a cold fury that sent him rushing up the stairs, and into the fight. When we got into the room where the fire fight was supposed to be happening, we found – nothing, absolutely nothing, except copious amounts of blood on the floor. Red skirted the wall and I walked right into the centre of the room. Fiacuil came thumping up the stairs to find us standing there.

“What…”

Three small steps led up to the closed door of the Dark Wizard’s throne room. A strange light, beams flickering into our room, emanated from beneath the door. Starting with a slight puff and then growing quickly, a rolling mist began seeping into the room, rolling down the steps. It was quickly flooding the room. I placed my foot on the steps and reached for the door.

“Goll,” I said into the comm. “Goll…”

“It’s a trap,” said Fiacuil.

I turned to him and rolled my eyes. “Of course it’s a trap. This entire thing is a trap, a trap within a trap within a trap.”

“Come again?” said Fiacuil.

“We should go,” said Red. “We are way in over our heads.” She looked frightened.

“That may be so,” I said, “but I never leave anyone behind, dead or alive.”