by KM Sullivan
* * *
“Hey, Corporal, wait.” It was Jack, the American pilot with the camera.
I turned and watched the man jog up to him with a mixture of curiosity and impatience. The car tasked with taking me to the harbour was waiting, as was the boat which would deliver me across the sea to occupied France, and from there, Germany.
“I thought you might want to have this.” Jack was faintly breathless when he reached my side, and he waved a bit of glossy paper in my face. “I took it when you boys were in the pub on Wednesday night.”
I was silent as I plucked the paper from Jack’s hand. It was a photograph. I had seen them, of course, but that did not lessen my shock at seeing my own face – or part of it – stark against the gloom of the pub. Jamie and Pat were on either side of me at a table littered with cigarette butts and pint glasses. Pat had a pen in his hand and under a protective hand was his letter to his daughter.
I slipped the picture into my pocket – next to the same letter. I bit hard on the flesh of my cheeks, but whether to stem tears or the rising tide of rage, I was no longer sure.
“Thank you, Captain. I appreciate it.” I saluted the American and the other man nodded smartly.
“Good luck, Corporal. Give ‘em hell.”
Six
Faerie whispers had been chasing me for weeks, and for weeks, I continued to throw myself at the wolves of Germany. Sometimes I caught those who followed me – those who I had rallied to my side with calls for resistance and freedom – looking at me as though I was crazed, or damaged.
Maybe I was damaged, but they followed me regardless.
The traitor, the man responsible for the deaths of my friends, the man whose information had effectively ended the aerial war on Germany, had been captured.
When I saw him, I insisted I alone interrogate the prisoner. A glitter of silver haunted the man’s eyes, and he’d been filled with delusions of grandeur. Whispers of Nuada’s doing lingered on his lips and I knew the king’s dark power had turned this man’s heart.
Why? Had exile not been enough? Had the king wanted to crush my soul as well?
The traitor was mad, my men said.
I agreed, but I stayed their hands when they would dispatch him - leave him in a ditch where none would find him.
We would not become those men, I said.
The war was almost over. I could taste it in the air, feel the shuddering sigh of a world brought to the brink of destruction only to pull back.
Actions taken in these final days would stay with us.
It was March again, and still I pressed on.
I had honoured Pat and Jamie’s memory, yet those who struggled and died to bring freedom to the world of men called out to me. The beacons of their hope lit my dreams and haunted my waking hours.
I would bear witness to their fight, so we trudged on, my men and I, and we fought or liberated where we could.
And so, the whispers of Faerie followed me as I hovered at the edge of my despair. My year was up. Niamh was looking for me, begging me to return to Tír na nÓg.
That she knew of my pain I did not doubt, yet I refused to listen until my company was safe. I led them back into a liberated village on the French-German line, and gave them to the commanding officer there.
That night, I slipped into the fields and howled at the moon as I called the mists.
The world fell away and I vowed then, I would enter it no more.
I sat in the grove of my own creation and stared out at a world and a people descended of mine own. As I watched, trees gave way to stone and the Many lost their claim to the priests of the One.
Then the wheel turned. The sacred trees grew around my effigy of stone and the Many came out of hiding. I sat in my grove and watched a world outside my imagination, willing it to see.
She saw. She saw me with uncanny green eyes – the green eyes of my mother and her mother before her: witch’s eyes.
Joy rose in me. It was time – time to join the world after years of solitude, time to act after centuries of stillness.
I closed my eyes and reached across the barrier, to touch my future and my past.
# # #
About the Author
Descended of pirates and revolutionaries, Katie Sullivan is a lover and student of all things Irish. Born in the States, she is a dual US/Irish citizen, and studied history and politics at University College, Dublin – although, at the time, she seriously considered switching to law, if only so she could attend lectures at the castle on campus. She lives in the American Midwest with her son and two cats. Find out more about Katie and her forays into fiction at The D/A Dialogues.
The World of the Changelings
Changelings. They were the descendants of Man and Fae. They walked between worlds – as healers, mystics, even kings – but no more. He thought he was the last, alone and lost, until the day he saw them.
Dubh Súile mac Alasdair – Warrior, Prince, Druid. Dubh Súile was born in 690, second son of a Pict king. When war separates him from all he loves, he travels between the worlds to discover the myths he once sang at the fireside are not only the truth, but have the power to destroy all he has come to know.
Nuada Silver Arm – King, Myth, God. King of the Fae, Nuada swore he would protect the Fae from the machinations of men who would deny their existence.
Maureen O’Malley and Sean McAndrew – Changelings. Born at the close of World War Two, Maureen and Sean are orphans in Ireland’s desolate west coast. Discovery of the gateway between the worlds leads them on a wild adventure through time, but ends in tragedy at Nuada’s keep.
They are Changelings, and they have magic in their blood – magic, which will rekindle a centuries-old war that threatens to tear the very fabric of time.
Other books by KM Sullivan
The Changelings Series
Changelings: Into the Mist
Changelings: The Rise of Kings (Coming July 13, 2017)
The Three Ghosts Series
Three Ghosts
A Finger in the Night (Coming Autumn 2017)
Connect with KM Sullivan
Thank you so much for reading my book! Here’s where to find me on social media:
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