by K. V. Wilson
“Now listen, here, Mr. Alpha,” Elspeth growls. “Yer daughter is very much safe an’ sound. It’s me husband that’s gotten his wings torn clean off! So ye better clam up!”
I raise my eyebrows at the old woman’s remark but say nothing in response. She turns and huffs away, unsuccessfully attempting to stifle tears.
My dad glowers at Aelshen, who stands steadfast between the alpha and me. “I didn’t keep Skye out of the fray for seven years to watch your grubby, egocentric hands yank her right into the midst of it!”
Aelshen takes a step towards the Lycan, unsheathing Adhair from his back – he’d strapped it on to keep it handy no matter what form he’d chosen during the final stages of the battle.
The Second Battle of Conwy.
And we aren’t any closer to stopping Patercius as Aelshen and Flint were centuries ago.
“I shall counter yer insolence with verse, lad.” The Lycan spirit spits, jutting his sword into the ground and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Aelshen, no,” I attempt weakly, but he doesn’t pay any heed.
The burly bartender continues, “Fer ye must remember who it was who founded the Lìog Airgid.”
Closing my eyes, I struggle to remember the ballad in ancient Scottish Gaelic. The verses Mac Tíre had written generations ago. The Lycan begins reciting them, quietly at first, and then with more momentum.
“The Lìog Airgid, formed for peace
Must now fight and seek release
From the chains that wind so tight
Round the spirits; hear their plight”
I close my eyes, breaking into a smile as I chime in, reciting the words as if it was only yesterday they’d been given life.
“A Terran parent spawned the Three
No gender, race, or species be
Whichever form that's taken, sees
The countless spirits of Earth that seek
An end to war, a planet freed”
“Shut it,” my dad scoffs. “I don’t give a damn that you founded this organization, Mac Tíre. It’s under new management. And I want to keep these people safe. Now, let me see my daughter or I’ll ensure your current incarnation ceases to be,” he orders through clenched teeth.
I take a deep breath. The air grates against my bruised lungs as I continue to heal myself. The energy of the earth sends pinpricks through my nerves from head to toe.
When my eyes flash open again, I note that my dad has taken an involuntary step back. He surely sees the energy of the universe that flashes behind Aelshen’s irises, the wrath that he’s unleashed upon himself by insulting the spirit so savagely.
“The problem with this world,” Aelshen begins as his body crackles with lightning akin to the thunder gods of legend, “is that there is arrogance and hubris. Insolence, racism, and speciesism. Mac Tíre forged the bond between the spirit world and the human world in order to bring about an air of peace, to help humans understand what it was to be one with nature. And thus the Lycan race was born. Thus the Ddreigiau and the Yeva’si came to be.”
“An’ many more,” Nessie adds. “Los Serpientes de los Andes, for instance. My people,” she says proudly, carrying her sword upon her shoulder like a seasoned warrior despite her sixteen-year imprisonment.
“Preach,” Elspeth whispers, eying my dad with disdain.
“The first Lycans were Druids,” Aelshen continues. “Loyal to the natural world and all in it. They accepted their roles with decency an’ respect.” The spirit doesn’t bother to glance overhead at the storm he’s brewing.
Careful. We’ll draw even more attention to ourselves.
Aelshen swirls his hand and the maelstrom encompasses the entire town, sending it alight with a brilliant storm and a surge of unrelenting rainfall. The Lycans, Yeva’si, and dragons huddle together as he forms a shield of adhair around this little swath of land and river. They eye the thunderstorm with awe and fear.
“Lycans understood what it meant to be Guardians, to live dual lives as man an’ beast. I’d hoped this understanding would change the world and bring about long-lasting peace. But I was wrong.”
“Wrong as always,” my dad sneers.
“Wrong because it was human nature itself that would cause the downfall. Ye see, Ferals are not born naturally, Matthews. They are borne by hatred. By jealousy and fear.”
The alpha raises his eyebrows. “And Lauren?” he inquires innocently, indicating the Lycan who’d gone feral before regaining control and becoming Alpha of the Sheep River clan in Alberta. Conall’s mother.
“Imagine,” Aelshen replies, “a woman who’d lost everything. She knew her husband – one who dedicated his life to killin’ her kind – would not accept her for who she had become. The stress, the anger, the hardship…it drove her to madness. Hatred drove her to become feral.”
My dad shakes his head, shuffling his feet in the muddied grass.
Aelshen continues, “Hatred drives us to do terrible things, to fail to see the good in each other or even in ourselves. Hatred drove Patercius to such lengths that he truly believed there was no good in us. He abandoned all hope, all faith in the balance he was tasked to maintain, and all because he was blinded by hatred. He forgot whom he really was as he was reborn again and again, never letting go of this hatred.”
“Rogue priest,” Duncan mutters, coming up on my dad’s other side.
Great. He’s still alive.
“Exactly. A rogue. Blinded by hatred like so many beings are, no matter the race. I take the blame for bringin’ ye into this world, Lycans, fer it was not the grandest of plans. It has caused far more difficulty and bloodshed than it was worth.”
Aelshen sends a whirlwind of energy around himself so he stands before my father as a demigod. The crowd gasps as the Lycan glitters with energy similar to what I had achieved on the hijacked airplane.
The immense Lycan ignores me. “I cannot take away what was given, for severing the bond between wolf and man would end ye. I have done my time. Died over and over hopin’ I may see a change in this world, one I could fix with a bit of optimism and elbow grease.
“But I cannot. I stand afore ye as yer humble Guardian, ever awaiting the day when I can stand tall an’ proud an’ say we’ve finally achieved balance. That my efforts have finally paid off.”
“And what of Saint Patrick?” my dad demands. “You said he is one of you.”
“He is not,” Aelshen spits. “He holds a connection to this earth, but not in the way we do. He walks the path of the supposed light, but that path is chock-full o’ malice. One must be at peace with oneself – and see the good in every living soul – to be able to fully achieve—”
“Don’t give me any of that! The only reason we agreed to risk our lives tonight, to ensure our survival, was hatred! It brought us together as one.”
“Precisely.”
My dad stares at the Spiritborne, taken aback. The latter smiles sadly at him, relinquishing his hold upon the elements and reaching down to pull Adhair from the earth.
“And yet, it has drawn us apart,” Aelshen finishes softly.
I groan as the last of my torn skin mends, causing Conall to award me with a worried glance. “I’m fine,” I reassure him.
I push myself from the sodden ground and take a step towards my father. His face softens as he glimpses me.
“War certainly has drawn us apart,” I tell my father. “Hatred divided the world long before any of this took place.”
I spread my arms wide, indicating the ruins of a once-great castle. I bite my tongue as I catch glimpse of a tawny beard and lifeless hazel eyes, staring skyward as if awaiting the infinite embrace of the heavens.
George, once my father’s second-in-command.
I gulp back the tears, forcing myself to continue. “War and destruction are timeless. It’s only with understanding and acceptanc
e that we can finally mend these wounds and move forward.”
“Skye…” my dad begins.
“I have a half-sister,” I choke out.
He gapes at me. “A what?”
“Mom was married before all this, before she met you. She was married to a man called Tyrone. He betrayed her. He’s the one who…that night on the mountain when mom…”
The alpha swears profusely. “Where is he? I’ll kill him!”
“Already taken care of,” Conall says evenly.
My dad nods but otherwise ignores him. “I want you out of all this.” Flames dance in his eyes. “I’m not always here to protect you, and I don’t want those two dragging you halfway across the country.”
My dad scans the crowd before his gaze rests on Flint and Aelshen again. The Earth spirits stand their ground under his scrutiny.
“We have to get Ramsey outta here without making him Shift,” Aelshen is saying to no one in particular. “His injuries are great.”
“He’ll never fly again!” Elspeth wails. “He’s good as useless!”
Aelshen rolls his eyes. “Now, is that the way to speak about yer dear ol’ husband? Never ye mind that he’s unconscious. I’m gonna see if I can find a big truck or somethin’—”
“You should have seen this coming!” my dad roars at Aelshen. “You and the boy put us all in danger!”
Duncan nods his assent, giving the Father of Lycans a spiteful glance.
“Dad, we’re—”
“Quiet, Skye,” he warns, his voice mellowing as he meets my gaze for a split second.
My face burns as the clans and tribes all stare at me, the alpha’s daughter. I clear my throat, jutting out an arm to stop my dad from advancing any further towards the two spirits I’ve known for thousands of years.
“Stop,” I breathe, sending out tendrils of Earth to entrap his boots. He whirls around, staring at me in bewilderment. “Back, all of you! Get Ramsey out of here! Get to safety. Leave us.”
I raise my hands above my head, creating a wall of flames around myself and the alpha. The closest Lycans and Yeva’si shrink back, squealing at their proximity to the flames. And then their voices can no longer be heard; only the roar of flames encompasses our world, my dad’s and mine.
“Skye…”
I feel the energy of the universe flickering upon my irises as I train my gaze towards his.
“I am not only Skye anymore. You have to understand that.”
He frowns deeply, eyeing the firelight and grasping my hand as I slip it into his. His face betrays the utmost fear as if I may decide to envelop his skin in my conflagration.
“I know we haven’t known each other for very long, collectively, but I remember the way you were before mom died. You were relaxed, loving…you cared what happened to me,” I tell him softly.
“I do—”
“No. You want to protect me. I know that. But—”
“Skye…what have they done to you?” he breathes, removing his hand from my grip. He stares past me into the flames. The light dances upon his eyes, causing them to flash maliciously as his words cut deep.
“I did it to myself, dad. From the day I was born. I can see it more clearly than ever before.”
I push my ruddy locks behind an ear as I stare into my father’s eyes. He blinks. Trying to be brave in the face of the flames.
“Earth is a gift,” I continue. “It’s a gift to humanity and we take it for granted. We fight and kill and we don’t care what happens to it, to everyone who resides upon it. The White Wolf understood this and so do I. I know why she chose me that night. She foresaw my downfall and at the same time, she knew that I was meant to take her place. She knew I saw the fear in the soldiers’ eyes, their will to live as strong as my own. She knew I could be more than what I was, and she guided me. She taught me to let go of my hatred.”
“You don’t understand,” he whispers. “War is more complicated than that.”
I raise a hand, causing the wall of flames to grow even higher, enshrouding us in a dome that shuts out the stars overhead. My dad wipes his brow, breathing shallowly as sweat drips from his face.
“Is it?” I inquire of him, peering sideways at the man who’d abandoned my family for seven years, building up an army of angry Lycans to take down our foes once and for all. “Dad, don’t you see? The solution is not war. It never was.”
He sneers. “You sound like—”
“Sejka?” Soft laughter echoes within our little bubble of teine, and I realize that it’s mine. “That’s because I am Sejka,” I inform him. I picture the old woman’s bright eyes and laugh lines, her long hair woven into two elegant braids upon her beaded chest.
My father gasps and I allow a smile to tug at the corners of my lips.
“Teine, sguir,” I command, not at all surprised to glimpse dark, greying braids laying upon my chest, positioned neatly on the beaded cloak that had belonged to my past life.
As quickly as it had arrived, the wall of flames extinguishes to nothingness, leaving my father and I standing upon the scorched grass. My braids turn rusted auburn again and I breathe in through my own lungs.
“You…you’re…” my father stutters, eyes locked on mine.
“The power of the universe flows in my veins, Dad. And with it, the role of keeping Earth safe. Balanced.”
The alpha stares at me in awe. “I never knew you could—”
“Surprise,” I breathe, sighing in relief as I make peace with Skye once again. “I may be the avatar of an ancient nature spirit, and you may be Alpha of the Silver League, but first and foremost, I’m your daughter and you’re my father.”
He nods solemnly, eyes glistening. “I had to distance myself. I couldn’t allow anything to happen to you like it did your mother,” he says softly, running a calloused hand through his blood-encrusted hair.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Let me guess. When you look at me, you see her.”
He smiles weakly but then a dark shadow overcomes him and he’s sombre once again. “It sounds cliché when you say it aloud, but it’s not that hard to believe. And I couldn’t endure that loss again. I dedicated my life to the Lìog so we could finally crush our enemies to dust. So we could live our lives without getting shot in the back.”
I wince at his words. Sean. Annika. They both died at Tyrone’s hands.
But Tyrone is gone. We must learn to put the past behind us.
My dad sighs deeply, adding, “We could win this war once and for all—”
“I am not here to win this war.” I smile at my father sadly. He raises his eyebrows in confusion. “We, as Guardians, are not here to win this war but to end it. And that can only be done through understanding. Working side by side to ensure all races and species of Earth are kept in a never-ending cycle of balance. We will distribute David’s serum to help the Ferals. We will reunite the spirits of Earth and help Patercius to reconnect with his past. It all starts with you and me.”
“Then show me,” my dad breathes, pulling me into an embrace. I rest my head against his heart, and for the first time in seven years, it feels right. “Show me what balance feels like. Remind me what it’s like to be loved.”
59
REMORSE
Aelshen
The steering wheel is a glacier under me hairy hands as I stamp on the pedal and round the last corner.
“Mo chreach!” I swear as a tunnel comes into view. Jutting me head out the window, I attempt to gauge the truck’s height. “Damn flippin’ tunnel.”
I throw the truck into reverse, parking it in the ideal place to load a full-grown elderly dragon inside. I then heave open the door and leap to the concrete, stripping and shoving the clothing into the cab.
I close me eyes, wincing as me injuries stretch and pull, me skin slinking down and sprouting obsidian feathers. I hop thrice and take to the sky, homing in on Conwy’s entrance.
Soon as me wee talons hit the earth I’ve shifted to man once again. “Hurry it up! Get
‘im out soon as ye can, lads! I couldn’t get the truck close enough, so we’ve got to get a move on afore we’re seen!”
“Took ye long enough!” Elspeth crows.
“I’ll take care of it,” Flint mutters, elbowing past me. “Any cars behind you?”
“Not at the moment,” I reply, rushing towards Ramsey and hoisting his great bulk onto my shoulder.
Nearly twenty Lycans and Yeva’si are aiding to carry the hulking Ddraig towards Conwy’s exit. Ramsey is unconscious, but even if he weren’t, he canna’ Shift until his injuries are taken care of. Would be detrimental for him to attempt to transform. The deep cuts would start to gush again, not to mention Ramsey would be missin’ quite the bulk of his upper back. It may never heal properly after such an atrocity.
“Anyone else need medical aid afore we make a run fer it?” I inquire.
“They took care of it,” Thirteen mumbles, jutting his chin towards Nwyfre and then Ru-Yeva, who’s directly behind the lad.
The mortals grimace as they struggle to carry Ramsey’s immense weight. I draw energy from the earth, wincing as I spread it around to the others. They sigh in relief, hoisting Ramsey higher.
“Please tell me he’ll fit through the doorway,” I plead. “Dawn is fast approachin’.”
“Shut yer geggy an’ help, fool,” Elspeth cries, but there is no malice in her voice; only sadness. She knows her husband will never fly again. Not to mention the bloody bishop took the Ddraig’s wings with him as a prize.
“How are they gonna cover this up?” Ace inquires.
Sighing, I glance at the goth Lycan. “Doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. We need to get ourselves out o’ here and fast. Whatever happens in this keep afterwards is none of our business.”
“What happens in Conwy stays in Conwy,” Damian mumbles.
When we reach the doorway, I breathe a sigh of relief. “Looks like we’ll make it, but it’ll be a tight squish.”
“Get a move on, or I’ll show ye a tight squish!” Elspeth roars. “Get me lover to safety, Mac Tíre! ‘Tis yer fault this happened! Yer bloody Ritual that set all this up in the first place!”
