Autumn Moon

by Jan Delima

  “We’re not out of here yet.” Luc crouched just behind the buffer of trees, pointing toward the horizon. “The guards are blocking the exits, more have flanked the side.”

  Cadan wrapped his coat around Elen and began to lift her from the ground, but she pushed him away. “Stand back,” she warned. “I am about to call my weapon.” Now that Pendaran was dead, there was no reason for her not to heal herself and fight the guards outside the stone walls. Having seen her in action, Cadan didn’t argue, nor did her brother.

  The forest was strong here, and it knew her from childhood, when she played and laughed and gathered herbs with Mae. She reached out as a woman grown, feeling the old roots gnarled underground, dormant for winter but not dead. Air brushed through their hidden spot, excited to join, sending a sharp wind that whistled through bared branches, waiting patiently to learn her new game.

  She called Earth first, the element that had accompanied her from the beginning. The ground began to melt and turn soft as its energy hummed along her skin. Her muscles relaxed and warmed as she thawed along with the grounds around her. It fed her body and began to heal her injuries. Her tongue burned as skin knitted and reformed, and wrists and ankles healed as well. Restored and vibrating from energy, she stood.

  Leri tilted her head in curiosity but didn’t run, perhaps sensing her best chance of survival was with them.

  “Here,” Cadan insisted this time, helping her with his jacket and zippering it up the front. “I have a feeling this is going to be a wild ride.” The jacket smelled like leather and the musk of a powerful wolf; it fell to mid-thigh.

  “I’m going to step out of the forest,” she told them. “Stay back or stay close.”

  Leri stayed back, while Luc and Cadan flanked her sides. They walked in plain view, crossing the field. A guard shouted, and others followed; a few spilled from the gates and began to approach.

  “Pendaran is dead. Let our comrades pass or you will follow his fate,” she called across the field. “Back away from the doors and let the others leave.”

  She heard voices rise in argument and dissension, and then several growls as guards shifted. Once in the center of the field, Elen opened her arms wide and raised her face to the sky, offering every emotion she felt for her family inside. Air and Earth gathered in a furious joining much like the one at her cottage, and she let the vortex surge uncontained. In her mind’s eye, she pictured it circling the manor. It spread wide, sucking up rocks and debris from the field in its path, encroaching past the gates.

  “Remind me never to piss you off,” Cadan muttered by her side.

  One guard held a torch that blazed high into the wind, fed by its sibling elements. Wind and flames became a destructive shield. Screams followed; shouts and cries of wounded wolves. Finally they withdrew, accosted with a power greater than theirs. Without Pendaran leading his guards, chaos erupted. Many ran, others shouted for everyone to clear out. Servants and guards poured from windows and doors, escaping behind the manor.

  Elen held her stance but almost faltered when Cormack staggered through the gate, followed by Dylan. Teyrnon carried Merin in his arms. The unraveling could have gone smoother, she admitted, but it didn’t cause the damage she feared. The forest shook as the tumult spread wide.

  She held her ground until the wind lessened to a gentle breeze and the fires reduced to smoldering smoke in the dry field. The manor remained standing but scorched black with dust and soot. Earth settled back into its winter slumber. A hundred warriors, maybe less, watched from a distance. Their wounds bled into the field as they headed toward the forest to shift. She sensed that others had fallen to their deaths within and watched as they began to fight each other.

  It was time to leave.

  A breath rushed out of Luc as if he’d been holding it the whole time. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

  “A very dear friend.” Elen looked to the manor. “I hope the servants escaped unharmed.”

  Luc turned her toward the woods. “I would say they knew a better exit.” A line of Hen Was formed along the trees, drawn together as they watched the fall of their imprisonment.

  Teyrnon placed Merin on the ground. Blood ran down her side, and a long slash crossed her face where a guard had tried to remove her head but failed. “This is only the beginning,” she warned. “Maelor lives but an hour north. He will be here soon, and then the others will be informed. Pendaran controlled the Council. Even with his twisted ambitions, he always remained loyal to Taliesin. The others will not, and they will ravage each other for control. Without Pendaran’s intervention . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “Dark will always balance light,” Elen said. “One does not exist without the other.”

  “You are the balance, my daughter.” Merin handed her swords to Elen, lifting her hand to the cropped ends of her hair with thinned lips.

  The ancient weapons hummed in Elen’s grasp, and she felt the Great Oak answer from the forest, sending temptation down her spine in a whispering caress of otherworldly energy. Nerth and Cadarn; with both their masters departed, they sought another to wield their power. Buds formed on the bleached vines of Nerth, opening like spring’s first leaves. Dead wood sloughed off like a serpent’s skin as green shoots emerged. Vines wove into a new scabbard made of a living braid. Cadarn, even while encased in iron, reacted to the rebirth of its twin; jewels on its hilt glowed like rainbow embers kissed by the wind.

  Elen hadn’t orchestrated this healing. No, this power came from a world beyond her grasp. It arose as a request, not a gift. She was not meant to be the master of these ancient weapons, but perhaps their keeper—and their protector. For a while, at least, until their rightful owners claimed them.

  Merin smirked as if witnessing divine proof of her earlier proclamation. She turned to Luc and Dylan. “Protect your territories. I fear there are more dark times ahead.” The bleak warning cast a silence among her family. She stripped and shifted in the open field as the men formed a shield. It was a graceful dance of human flesh to golden fur. Soon her howl pierced through the night sky; it was a cry of both victory and sadness.

  “We will worry about that another day.” Cormack gathered Elen in his arms. “For now, I’m taking you home.”

  Thirty-two

  Every home had a scent, and Elen closed her eyes to savor the dried herbs and pine that marked her cottage. A fire blazed in the central hearth and soup simmered on the stove. More than anything, she needed to be here, with Cormack. It was this image that had sustained her through eight weeks of darkness, and it had come true. There was no greater homecoming than this. Sophie hugged her as soon as she walked through the door, followed by Joshua.

  “I need a shower,” Elen warned. They had stopped briefly in a hotel before their flight to change and clean up, but she was eight weeks due for a full soaking. Even with Merin’s private plane, interactions with the mortal world were necessary. Her mother had stayed behind in their homeland to spread word of Pendaran’s fall to the other Council members, and try to ally Bran on her side, along with Maelor—to Teyrnon’s raging displeasure. Luc, Cadan and Teyrnon had returned to Avon once they landed. The farewells were a blur, the journey back even more. A part of Elen still felt numb, as if her soul hid in the shadows, unsure if this was just another fantasy.

  “Do you think we care?” Sophie shook her head, wiped at her face. Tear-kissed hands lifted to the chopped ends of Elen’s hair. Turning, she grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and placed it in the center of the floor. “Sit. I will be right back.” She returned with a spray bottle, scissors and a comb.

  Such a simple gesture, and Elen felt her throat clog in gratitude. Layers framed her face when Sophie had finished, curling just above her shoulders. It felt light and done by caring hands.

  She reached up and tested the feathered ends. “Thank you.”

  Sophie gave her a tight hug that lin
gered before letting her go. “We’ll leave now and let you have some rest.”

  Dylan took his wife’s cue, nodding to Cormack and then Elen. “I’m holding a meeting on Arwel Passage once the sun sets. All of Rhuddin Village has been ordered to come. I want you both there.”

  The passage ran from the village to Rhuddin Hall, and was the place where their first battle began this looming war, where Sophie had lost her mother and Elen removed a Guardian’s power and gave it to Cormack. Malsum, one of their most loyal guards, had also fallen.

  She didn’t know what her brother had planned, but she sensed it was a pivotal change in the future of their territory. “We’ll be there.”

  Joshua was the last to leave. “Are you okay, Aunt Elen?”

  She would never tire of hearing him call her that. “I will be,” she promised. And to ease his concern, she added, “I heard you took care of my animals while I was gone.”

  “Chickens like spaghetti.” He grinned, but it was forced, a buffer for the concern in his dark eyes that had aged more since she’d been gone. “They fight over it like it’s a pile of worms.”

  “He spoiled them,” Sophie warned, gesturing her son to the door. “They may never eat feed again.”

  Once alone, Cormack scooped her in his arms and carried her to the second floor. Needing tactile reassurances, Elen ran her hand over the wooden slats of her walls on her way up the stairs. He set her down in the bathroom and turned on the shower.

  “You can stay.” She stopped him with her hands on his forearms as he turned to leave.

  “I can’t.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I want you, Elen. I want you more than you can possibly imagine, and I know you need this time—”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do.” He stepped back. “I’ll be waiting for you right here in the hallway.”

  In the end, she was glad he gave her this privacy without an audience to use facilities and wash private areas with her own hands for the first time in two months. When the warm water beat against her back, she let the tears flow as the events of the day unfolded and she realized she was free, and home, and with the man she loved, and who loved her in return.

  She had survived. And Pendaran was dead. She didn’t know what the future held, but for today they were safe.

  Her fingers were pruny by the time she turned the water off. Everything remained in its place, her moonflower cream, toothbrush and floss. She used them all, then wrapped a soft towel around her torso and opened the door.

  Cormack kissed her temple and led her to their bed. “Dress while I shower,” he told her. “Afterward we’ll talk, read, sleep . . . or do whatever you want.”

  “I need you,” she whispered. “That’s what I want.”

  His breath hitched. “Elen—”

  She sensed his hesitation, hated that Pendaran continued to disturb them, even in death. “He didn’t touch me.”

  Guilt caved his shoulders like a physical force. “He imprisoned you in a cave below earth, below nature and everything you need to thrive.” Tears welled in his eyes before he looked away to hide them. “He kept you . . .” He shook his head, unable to continue.

  “Hush,” she soothed. “You will not mention that again. It is done and we will move on.” She began to unravel the towel.

  He cupped her face in his hands and gave her a lingering kiss that promised security more than seduction. “It is done, but we won’t bury our hurts either to fester later. Rest now. I won’t be long.”

  While Cormack showered, Elen dried and brushed her hair, taking note of her pale appearance in the vanity mirror. She was thin but not gaunt, nothing that sun and home wouldn’t cure in time. Her eyes and wounds had healed, and so too would her soul.

  Heat rose from the first floor through the cast-iron grates, warming her room. Crawling into bed, she waited for her fantasy to be complete and proven true.

  * * *

  Elen was asleep when Cormack returned. He closed the curtains to block out the day before joining her in their bed. This evening’s meeting would come soon enough, and until then he would hold her in whatever capacity she required, even if it was just rest.

  Sliding next to her, he wrapped his arm around her waist and snuggled her close. He had cursed the Gods countless times over the last few weeks, and offered his first prayer for her safe return. His heart beat in a rhythm next to hers and lulled him to peace.

  He awoke with a start as Elen began to thrash. Her eyes were open but unfocused, back in the nightmare of that cell. “It’s me,” he said in a calm but firm voice. “You’re home, Elen.”

  “Cormack?” A breath fell from her lungs as her eyes focused. “I thought—”

  “I know.” He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the bitter scent of her panic. “You’re home,” he repeated, “with me.”

  Her body began to relax back into the mattress. “Love me,” she whispered. “Please. I need to feel you.”

  “Always.” He wrapped her tight in his arms, resting his chin above her head. “Let me just hold you for now.”

  “I want more.”

  “You are so fragile, Elen. I fear—”

  “I am immortal,” she argued, “and you will not break me.”

  Need rode him hard. He was but a man, and his mate was asking for the very thing he wanted to give, and still . . .

  He found her hand, kissed her palm. “I love you, Elen. I love you more than the air that I breathe.” He had professed these same words to her in his mind as a wolf many times over the years, and did so now for her to know how much she meant to him. “If I had to choose between the two, I would choose you.”

  He took her hand and placed it on his chest, palm down, running it down his stomach, and then lower, letting her feel the evidence of how difficult it was for him to deny such a request. She needed security. He showed her this wasn’t a rejection. “But I think we should wait until you’ve had time to heal and absorb what you’ve been through.”

  “I am healed.”

  “Not here.” He placed his palm over her heart. “Not where it matters most. But you will be.”

  She shuddered, then relaxed, curling deeper into his warmth. “I love you just as much, Cormack, if not more.” Whispered words filled with exhaustion. Even breaths fell from her lips seconds later as she fell back to sleep, secure in his love.

  Thirty-three

  Winter’s first snow covered Arwel Passage as every occupant of Rhuddin Village gathered to hear their leader’s speech and learn of yesterday’s events. The trees in this section grew tall without allowing light to reach the forest floor. It was a canopy of pines that spread to the rivers beyond. Hundreds of faces watched through their vertical trunks, wary and yet curious.

  The fact that meetings were usually held in their local church only added to their trepidation.

  Elen knew each and every one of them by name, even though they avoided her gaze. Cormack held her hand within his. Porter stood by her other side, and Joshua after him.

  Sophie marched with Dylan along the trail, wearing black pants tucked into knee-high boots, a fitted jacket and the serpent whip wrapped around her waist. Dylan wore warrior gear, staking his claim as alpha and Penteulu of this territory.

  “I settled into this land before it was proclaimed as the New World,” Dylan began with a booming voice to silence the whispers. “I did this for my siblings—and for freedom from the Guardians’ leadership. As the years passed, more of you came for sanctuary.” He paused, turned toward the right of the trail, and then the left, scanning all the silent faces. “You came to me for protection. I granted it because of my sister’s tender heart. Make no mistake . . .” He paused only to look at her. “You are here because of Elen.”

  A murmur began to spread across the crowd.

  “Pendaran is dead,” Dylan continued. Ignori
ng the cheers that were raised, he went on. “He was killed by two hands, one a former Bleidd.” He raised his arm toward Cormack. “The other a mother’s desperate act to free her daughter.” He watched Sophie as he asserted his next words. “Not unlike my mate, who did the same to protect our son from you.”

  Silence descended in the forest.

  “I was reminded recently that power does not make a warrior’s heart, that it is what a person is willing to sacrifice to protect their family that proves true strength.” He lifted his wife’s hand and placed a kiss inside her palm.

  Letting her hand drop, Dylan scanned the forest, his stance grave. “You shunned my sister, and I allowed it because of what you all suffered under Guardian rule. I understood you acted on the nature of your wolves. And then you shunned my mate, and still I defended you for the same reason.”

  “What is he doing?” Elen took a step forward, but Porter and Cormack stopped her with raised arms across her chest.

  “It ends today.” Dylan waved Alise onto the trail. She was Rhuddin Village’s town secretary, but her official job was to create new identities every eighty years or so, over a normal human life span. Elen helped with fake birth and death records. “Any person who shuns my family from this day forth is not welcome in my territory.

  “A war has begun,” he continued in the shaken silence. “I heard an hour ago that Rhys has claimed leadership of the Council. Edwyn has mounted a campaign against Isabeau in Minnesota. Our allies are scattered and under the same threat. We don’t have enough guards to leave our territories unprotected.” Dylan let the gravity of that news trickle among the crowd. “Guardians will come to claim our lands, and we will fight for our territories. No one is safe.”

  “What about the children?” The shout came from a female voice as other opinions united to be heard.

  “We will protect the children as best we can,” Dylan proclaimed, “as we always have. If you have no wish to fight—that is okay. There is no shame in survival or wanting peace. But you must leave, because you will not find that here in the days to come. Alise will create new identities for you and provide sufficient funds to live in the mortal world.”