Guardian (Book Two of the Spirits' War Trilogy)

by K. V. Wilson

  “Right, some tea then. We’ll whip up a kettle of our finest.”

  Elspeth nods brusquely, satisfied fer the time being as she hobbles over to Mr. Ross. I pick up one of the kettles and set to work.

  “So, how long will it be?” Ramsey inquires. I turn towards Elspeth’s husband, scratching me beard in thought.

  “Oh, I’d say five minutes an’ we’ll have it out to ye.”

  “Ah, well thank ye. But I meant how long till we head out o’ this place?”

  “It’ll have to be today. We canna’ waste any more time, even if Skye hasn’t yet woken.”

  “Isn’t that her o’er there?” Ramsey nods his head towards the stairwell. A young woman with wavy red hair stands on the bottom step, locked in a riveting conversation with her father, Todd Matthews.

  “Yeah, there she is!” I grin. “How did ye know? I haven’t introduced the two o’ ye.”

  “We met in the hallway,” the elderly dragon smiles. “Or rather, me wife ran smack-dab into the three o’ them an’ I had to deal with the aftermath.”

  I nod, feigning surprise at this. “Good. So you must’ve met young Thirteen as well,” I say, proud that I’ve finally remembered his name. To think, I’ve spent centuries on this earth and me memory’s still rubbish.

  “That I did,” Ramsey says, glancing at the Lycans. “Charming young lad.”

  I nod in agreement, ambling back to the counter where the MacLarty twins are taking a painful amount o’ time getting Mr. Ross’ ale ready.

  “Mac Tíre!”

  I turn towards Flint as he approaches. “How’s it goin’, Greg?”

  “Skye’s awake. Should we go soon?”

  “Not yet!” I burst out, taken aback. “I mean o’course we should. But at least let the others finish their meals first.”

  Flint glances at the doorway. “Then you’d better put a sign out. They’re still coming in.”

  I raise a hand to me forehead. “That they are. Allow me.”

  I make me way to the front o’ the pub, flipping the sign to ‘closed’. I take a deep breath, turning to face the dimly-lit paradise I’ve called home fer centuries.

 

  As always, there’s no answer from my old friend. I’m alone with me thoughts again.

 

  “What’s the big idea?” a muffled voice calls from outside as I lock the door. I ignore its owner, turning round to face my patrons. Clearing me throat, I decide to bite the bullet.

  “Alright, lads and lasses!” I boom, scanning the room fer Flint’s face. To me relief, the boy is already coming up beside me. The room grows quiet and I force a smile, searching fer the right words.

  “Get on with it!” Elspeth yells, raising her cup. Ace an’ Damian must’ve fixed her tea already. Or maybe she just stole someone else’s.

  “I’m tryin’ to!” I shoot back, making a few of the patrons chuckle. “Now, I’m sorry to say this, but we have to close this place down fer the time being.” A collective gasp emanates from the guests. “Aye. I have no choice but to—”

  “So yer going out o’ business, are ye, Mac Tíre?” Elspeth continues. I can tell that she’s lovin’ this to bits.

  Ramsey gives her a small shove. “Quiet, Elspeth. Let the fine man finish.”

  Elspeth blows a raspberry. “Ha. Fine, my—”

  “And so,” I continue, raising me voice, “we’re not going out o’ business, but rather closing due to…family business. Ye all understand. So enjoy yer last meal and get out.”

  I break into a chuckle, hoping the humour will hide my worries. A few of our patrons join in, while others simply sigh or grumble in annoyance. Truth is I have no flippin’ idea when this place’ll reopen. With the Covenant and the Knights of Saint Patty nipping at our tails, we might not be able to use this building fer years to come. Not till all this is resolved.

  “Good riddance! Yer tea stinks!” Elspeth calls out as I approach the bar.

  “Joke’s on her. That was coffee.” Ace snorts, biting his lip. Damian glances at his twin in disgust, giving him a playful shove.

  “MacLarty!”

  “Hey, you know she deserved it.”

  I glare at the Lycan. “She may have deserved it, but that ain’t no way to go treatin’ me guests, boy. And now the whole pub heard her say the tea stinks.”

  Ace smiles at me innocently. “Do you really think they believe her?”

  The Lycan nods towards the other patrons and I watch in contentment as they enjoy their meals, talking animatedly amongst themselves. The Lycans and Yeva’si have begun to gather at the stairway, preparing to head out.

  I mumble, “We’ll close up once the humans have finished.”

  Ace nods. “And let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

  “What does that even mean?” I inquire.

  “No idea,” Damian frowns. “Sounds American.”

  I shake my head at the twins, turning me attention towards Skye. “I have to go over an’ talk to her. Tell her that I want to train her, despite what her father says.”

  Flint places an arm on my shoulder. “We told her already, actually.”

  “Really? What’d she say?”

  “She said she sure needs it. The training.”

  “Right she is about that. Girl could barely take on an elderly bear without me help.” I glance over as Skye and Thirteen break away from the others, heading towards us. Skye is smiling widely and I return the expression.

  “Elderly what?” Ace narrows his eyes in confusion.

  Damian grins. “We found Sejka’s long-lost brother. The shapeshifters are gonna bring him over once we relocate. Xunnu says the old bear has Shifted for the first time in decades.”

  “What?” Skye interjects, startling the other three; they hadn’t heard her and Thirteen approach.

  “Ye saved someone’s life, Ru-Yeva,” I tell me fellow Spiritborne. “Sejka’s brother has apparently reconnected with his human side.”

  “So he’s…?”

  “Still in Canada,” Damian tells Skye. “But Xunnu is in contact with the Yeva’si that are taking care of him. They said he’s having trouble speaking, but seems to be able to Shift to other forms. They’ll all fly to the U.K. in a few days. Using different airports, so hopefully, nothing bad will come of it.”

  Skye’s face lights up at this, and I wonder to myself how much of a connection she shares with Sejka’s brother. All she must have are a few scattered memories, an’ yet she’s looking as excited as if the man is her own brother.

  “I can’t wait to see him again,” she smiles. I place a hand on her shoulder, looking her in the eye.

  “Skye, ye’ve got to remember that Sejka’s life is not your own. Her brother doesn’t know you. Be careful what you say an’ do. Ye may have all the memories that tell ye otherwise, but ye aren’t – an’ never have been – Sejka. Ye’ve gotta keep yer past lives separate.”

  A tear trails down the young woman’s face. “I know.”

  33

  SNAKES

  Skye

  I pull my unruly hair into a ponytail and test the moss for dampness before plunking myself down at the edge of the field. Leaning back against the fence, I sigh as I hug my knees to my chest.

  “This is the life, Red,” Conall muses, mirroring my pose.

  The Lycan stares off into the distance. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as the wind tugs at his dark curls, sending them every which way. Seeing my gaze, he gives me a half-smile, putting an arm around my shoulder.

  The wind here is relentless, but it does nothing to mask the beauty of the countryside. We’d recently arrived in rural Wales, at the childhood home of one of the Silver League’s newer members. She had sought out the League immediately upon hearing
about the Lycan organization and had apparently been working with my dad ever since. She’d made efforts to acquire her parents’ former property again once the Covenant had started targeting the London hideouts. My dad decided it would be safer and more practical to move the entire army to Wales until we could gain a better foothold.

  “Think we’re safe here?” I rub the rip in the knee of my jeans.

  Conall nods. “Yeah. We’re far from the Covenant, far from the hustle and bustle of London. No one knows we’re here.”

  I stare at the ground. “Not even Nwyfre.”

  “Hey, this is his home, right? The Great Welsh Dragon. Maybe he’ll catch wind of us and come over to investigate.”

  “I doubt it,” I mutter, rubbing my eyes and sinking down a little farther into the moss.

  I hadn’t been able to sleep on the train, not after what happened the last time we travelled.

  “Look who’s coming,” Conall says, interrupting my thoughts. He withdraws his arm from my shoulder, standing abruptly and brushing off his jeans.

  I follow his gaze, smiling as I catch sight of the newcomers. Aelshen and Xunnu are climbing up the hill towards us, followed by Flint and Xunnu’s niece, Xera. Aelshen raises a hand in greeting and I do the same.

  “Ah, I finally found ye, Skye.” The Irishman chuckles, hoisting the bow that Litu, head of the Eagle tribe, had given to me.

  “I’m not sure if she’s in the mood for training now, Aelshen,” Conall says, approaching the four of them.

  I nod. “He’s right for once. I got hardly any sleep on the way here. You know.” I stretch my arms out to either side, making the motions for an aircraft in jeopardy.

  “Understandable.” Aelshen grins. “Then ye’d best be gettin’ some rest.”

  “Thanks,” I murmur, squeezing my eyes shut and not bothering to move from my seat against the fence.

  “But while we’ve got ye here…”

  I open one eye, regarding the Father of Lycans with curiosity.

  “I want to tell ye somethin’. I know Thirteen and Flint have already mentioned it, an’ I know yer a bit miffed that I haven’t spent much time with ye yet, Spiritborne to Spiritborne. But it’s something I’ve been wantin’ to say fer a damn good while.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Aelshen clears his throat. “I want to help ye master yer calling. It’s a sort of tradition. One of the Three reincarnates, or her spirit is passed over in yer case – this is the first time that’s happened, mind ye. But we all work together to help the young one remember.”

  I smile. “I can see how that’d be useful, considering I hardly remember anything yet.”

  “An’ the way to do that is to master the art of the elements. It connects ye with the spirit world.”

  I nod slowly, remembering the dream I’d had. The one where Sejka had remembered the names of her Spiritborne companions when her father had convinced her to keep practicing her powers.

  “I’ll allow ye to get some rest now, but how’s about tomorrow we start?”

  “I don’t have my powers back—”

  “Ye don’t need them. I’ll start with somethin’ simple. Teachin’ ye how to fight with this first.” He grins again, holding up my bow. “This and some hand techniques. Maybe some sword training.”

  Sword training? What is this, the 1500s?

  “Sounds great to me,” I tell him. “But I’m not sure how much good it’ll do when the enemies are armed with guns.” I don’t mention that Xunnu and Litu had already tried to teach me archery. Better keep the expectations low.

  The Father of Lycans waggles a beefy finger at me. “Oh, it’ll come in useful, especially because it’ll trigger long-lost memories. Trust me. It’s not somethin’ that should be rushed, mind ye. Discipline takes time. Everything takes time.”

  “Like this conversation,” Conall whispers and I stifle a smile.

  “I heard that, Thirteen,” Aelshen booms, waving a hand absentmindedly. A tiny gust of wind picks up and Conall’s curls blow into his eyes. He sputters, growling under his breath. I bite my tongue to hold the chuckle in.

  Aelshen hands me my bow and a quiver of arrows. “Take these fer now. Ye should practice with them as well, considerin’ how the Covenant and their new allies can take yer powers from ye so easily.”

  “That’s freaky,” Conall comments, brushing his curls aside and glaring at Aelshen.

  “Oh, that’s right,” I begin, glancing back at the bartender. “I meant to ask, who are the Knights? Am I missing something important here?”

  Flint meets my eyes and I can tell this must be a sensitive subject. Aelshen lowers himself to the moss, attempting to cross his legs but failing. Instead, he pulls his knees to his chest – or rather, to his wide girth – and clasps his hands together in front of them.

  “The Knights of Saint Patrick are remnants of a past I’d rather not remember. In fact, I thought they were long gone from me life.”

  He frowns, staring off into the distance for the longest time. When he begins again, his voice is thick with anger and loathing.

  “Patercius was a bishop back in the day, around the time when Nwyfre an’ I founded our wee pub in London. ‘Twas a life long past, and it was the hardest life either of us ever had. Patercius – he was later called Saint, mind ye; don’t get me started on that – devoted his life to ridding the world of Druids. Coincidentally, many of me followers at that time were Druids. The first Lycans.”

  “Druids were the first Lycans,” Conall parrots. His brows furrow and he looks as though he wants to say more, but instead glances at Aelshen expectantly.

  “They were indeed. The first Lycans and the first Ddreigiau. Worshippers of nature and of the elements. Perfect beings to learn the art of shapeshifting, if I do say.”

  “Thrag…what?” Conall inquires, making a face.

  Aelshen grins. “Thra-eeg-ee-ai. Dragons.”

  “Well, that’s a mouthful—”

  “So, what happened?” I interject, settling back down beside Conall. Xunnu and Flint both sigh, squatting on either side of our trio. Perhaps they’ve heard this tale before. It seems everyone has except for Conall and me.

  “The Knights took many of me followers’ lives o’er the years, but that’s only the half of it. They nearly brought Nwyfre’s dragons to extinction.”

  Flint nods brusquely. “And that’s the main reason Elspeth hates Lycans. They found it easier to hide among the humans, whereas dragons were more…”

  “Temperamental?” Aelshen jokes. Flint only nods again, though there is some irritation upon his face. Aelshen pauses to let out a loud yawn. “But the Druids of Wales remained loyal to their life-force, Nwyfre. They stood up to the Knights of Saint Patty through the years.”

  “Yeah,” Flint affirms. “Even though Nwyfre abandoned them for a few centuries.”

  “He’s comin’ back. Don’t ye worry, Greg. But to be quite honest with ye, I had no idea the Knights were still kicking around. I thought they’d disappeared long ago.”

  Conall clears his throat. “So, when you say ‘Saint Patty’, you don’t mean…?”

  “The one an’ only. Drove the snakes out of Ireland, didn’t ‘e?” Aelshen raises his brows, drawing his mouth into a thin line and staring Conall down until the Lycan glances away, embarrassed.

  Flint winces, rubbing the back of his neck. “Snakes as in Druids. Snakes as in Dragons.”

  “I take it you don’t celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day, then,” Conall mumbles.

  Aelshen swears in Gaelic. “That thrice-cursed son of a goat can bite me—”

  “Mac Tíre,” Xunnu interjects, placing a hand on the Lycan’s shoulder. “Let’s let Ru-Skye rest.”

  “That we should,” Aelshen agrees, suddenly back to his old cheerful self. “We’ve got matters to attend to. Xera?” he inquires, lifting himself from the moss and joining Flint and Xunnu on their way back to the house.

  “I will stay here if it’s fine?” Xera asks, meeting m
y eyes.

  I smile. “Of course. But I’ll warn you, I’ll be out like a light in less than five.”

  The young shapeshifter smiles back, sinking down into the moss beside me. “Me too. I could not sleep on the…”

  “Train,” Conall mutters. “It’s called a train.”

  Xera switches to her native tongue as we watch the three figures shrink into the scenery. “Is he always this arrogant?” the shapeshifter laughs. “He reminds me a bit of my father.”

  “Yeah, he sure is,” I tell her, switching to Yeva’si as well. “Xera…” I pause, searching for the right words. “Why is it that you were raised by your uncle and not your father?”

  Although I’m certain I know the answer.

  Xera’s smile disappears. “My father did not care much for us, my brother and me. He wanted us to be strong and disciplined and would harm us if we did not listen. He did not value kindness or respect for those of a lower class. Father married into the Ulawey so he could be chieftain, and that’s where I was born. But Xunnu welcomed my brother and me into the Yáahl. That’s where we’ve been ever since. Father has voiced his discontent, but Xunnu was the one who united the five tribes as one. He has the final say.”

  I stare at the moss. “Wow.”

  “Maybe someday you’ll remember what Sejka knew about my family. It is a long story,” she says, darkness creeping into her voice, “and with some sad parts.”

  “That’s alright. Everyone’s story has some sad parts.”

  Especially Aelshen's and Nwyfre’s. I knew about the Covenant, but I hadn't realized just how far the Knights had gone towards continuing the 'Saint's Legacy'. Are Flint and the two Scottish dragons the last of their kind? Is Nwyfre really gone for good?

  Conall gives me a nudge and I meet his eyes. “I give up. Are you guys talking about me?”

  “Yup,” I tease in English, forcing my troubles to the back of my mind and leaning my head against the fence. “We can continue this conversation when I wake up.”

  “Fine,” he sighs. Xera giggles beside me. Before long, the three of us are fast asleep, basking in the mid-afternoon sun.