Guardian (Book Two of the Spirits' War Trilogy)

by K. V. Wilson

  “Wasn’t me!” I counter. “You’re not even my kind! Nwyfre brought the dragons—”

  “Hey!” Thirteen growls. “We’re wasting time! Turn him sideways a little. Yeah.”

  Damian backs onto the outer lawn, nearly slipping on the sodden grass. “Keep coming. Keep coming.”

  I roll me eyes. “I’ve got an idea, but I’ll need yer help, all of ye.”

  “Out with it!” Elspeth squeals, nearly dropping her hold on her husband’s tail – the only part o’ him she would agree to lift.

  “Once we’re out, I’m going to Shift to me own draconic form, an’ then ye need to lift Ramsey onto me back if ye can.”

  “He’s heavy,” Ace complains.

  “Look,” I begin, “it’s a long way to that truck. Ye can either carry him the entire way and collapse from exhaustion, or do a short bout o’ hard work now and have it over and done with.”

  “Sold,” Damian mumbles.

  The shapeshifters all crowd around Ramsey as I finish me transformation into an enormous nut-brown reptile. With a great amount of grunting an’ grumbling, they finally have the ol’ Ddraig lifted upon me back.

  “I need ye to jog alongssside me, elssse he may topple off,” I warn.

  The others oblige and soon we’re making our way down to the main road, heading for the tunnel past which I’d left the truck.

  A sudden burst of flames catches at me peripheral vision and I turn to see a car on the road, oncoming towards the castle. The metal creaks and groans as it’s set alight. The screams of the passengers make me blood run cold.

 

  the great dragon urges.

  As yet another vehicle approaches, Nwyfre sends his palms alight with famished flames, enshrouding himself in a shield of fog so the approaching citizens don’t know what hit ‘em.

 

  the boy snarls.

  Thirteen groans, peering at me through half-lidded eyes. “What’s the hold-up?”

  Skye gives me a shove towards the parked truck.

  Flint agrees.

  I hold me tongue but carry onwards, glaring back at the Ddraig as we complete our trek through the tunnel. He sends the nearest building alight with flames, and the cries of humans echo off Conwy’s walls as the great dragon masks himself with fog once again, Shifting into a mink as he rushes to catch up with us.

  “Alright, ladsss and lassses. Help me unload this great scaly delivery.” Once Ramsey is safely secured within the truck bed, I signal to the Lycans. “In here, as much as ye will fit! The rest will fly upon Elspeth—”

  “They will not!” she moans. “I’ll be stayin’ with me dear husband an’ they can pick up their own slack fer once!”

  I sigh. “Fine. One o’ ye take the wheel. Quinn, Nwyfre an’ I will fly the Lycans back. There’s a map in the console, I found. Skye, stay with ‘em an’ keep me updated.”

  “Of course.” The young spirit nods, clambering into the truck bed alongside Elspeth and Ramsey. Skye winces as she examines the stumps of the Ddraig’s once-great appendages.

  The Yeva’si Shift into starlings. The Lycans scramble onto our great draconic backs, but there are far too many to carry in one trip. Some of them squash into the truck bed whilst the remainder Shift into wolf form to run alongside.

  “Stay outta sight as best ye can, lads. We’ll be back for ye once the first round is dropped off at Quinn’s homestead.”

  Thirteen and Damian slam the doors, scurrying around to the passenger side. Matthews has already placed himself behind the wheel.

  I nod to Quinn and Flint. “Next stop, Walesss.”

  “Be sssafe, the lot of you,” Quinn adds, glancing sideways at Nwyfre. The great Welsh dragon stares forlornly at the town where his voracious fires still blaze.

  60

  NEVER FORGET YOUR ROOTS

  Skye

  Conall climbs the ladder and offers his arms to help me up. I hand him the down comforter Quinn had lent us and then scramble up after him.

  Quinn had offered us a room in her farmhouse – that’s where I’d been sleeping while the others had been out searching for Nwyfre. But I’d declined. Damian, Ace, Jen, and Xera would be sleeping in the barn, so that’s where Conall and I wanted to be. I would not allow the Silver League to treat me any differently just because I’m an ancient spirit.

  Then again, it does feel good to be noticed. I smile mischievously, eyeing my backpack and itching to peel back the flap to examine my newest gifts. The generous dragon, upon finding out that I missed painting, had bought me a full supply of brushes, paints, and canvasses.

  Images seep into my mind – happy faces with bright eyes. The pattern of the universe flashes upon their irises, displaying infinite wisdom and understanding. Understanding that can finally bring an end to this war. Understanding that can help take down Patercius and restore balance to the world.

  Conall and I dangle our legs over the edge of the hayloft, watching the Lycans and Yeva’si as they gather to settle down for the night. I rest my head upon his shoulder and he places an arm around me, holding me close. Despite having fallen in love countless times over the centuries, the thrill doesn’t subside any faster. My heartrate quickens and my smile widens.

  “My Guardian,” Conall says softly, reaching over to stroke my cheek. I smile as his lips meet mine. When we finally pull away, I tell him what I’ve known all along, what I hope he knows to be true as well.

  “You are my strength. We are strong together.”

  His lips quirk up at the corners. “You better believe it, Red.”

  I’ll train hard and study everything there is to know about the earth and humanity itself. I’ll find my half-sister and teach her all I know. She’ll understand; I know she will with time, no matter how she was brought up. Just like Patercius. We’ll get him to remember if it takes us centuries to do so.

  A breeze nudges the barn door, causing it to creak ajar. Beyond, hundreds of tents litter Quinn’s field. Lycans and Yeva’si alike remain here, ever-ready to serve the Silver League and the Three. Well, I suppose we should be calling it the Four, now that Nessie’s here. She originated in South America, but now she’s here with us, intent on helping us counter Patercius.

  My father and his followers had returned to the farm after the Second Battle of Conwy. I wasn’t aware they’d parted ways until recently; apparently, there’d been quite the argument between my dad and Aelshen while Flint and I had embarked on our spy mission. The two of them had kept it from me so I’d stay calm under pressure. Probably a good idea on their part.

  But now the League is whole again.

  Aelshen’s words come to mind, as clear to me now as the day he’d written them, outlining our fate as Spiritborne so we’d never forget it.

  They were borne amidst the dew

  Of a foggy, balmy dawn

  Betwixt the ocean and the loch

  Omniscient of the morn

  Roar of neither man nor beast

  Could turn the spirits Three

  Against the order, old and new

  To guard the earth and sea

  Spirit one, Son of the Land

  His howl strong, Adhair in hand

  Would take the realm, but naught as fought

  Nor ruled; ‘twas balance that he sought

  Spirit two, the one called Ru

  Would seek adventure; mischief too

  O'er the hills and seas she flew

  With nature's children, born anew

  And spirit three, the Life-Force, he

  Sought solace among the centuries

  His bestial heart always be strong

  Yet scarred by those who did it wrong

  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

  “A Terran parent spawned the Three,” I muse aloud.

  “Aye.”

  I raise my head as Flint edges into the barn. Behind him, a tall, dark figure follows. Nessie.

  The Loch Ness Monster has combed her hair for the first time in sixteen years and pulled it back into a striking ponytail. Her dark eyes flash in the torchlight as she picks off the ballad where I’d left off.

  “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”

  I raise my eyebrows. “You know this, too?”

  “’Course I do!” Nessie says indignantly. “Nwyfre recited this for me many a time in past lives. “Though I had yet to meet the man who’d written the words.”

  Flint snickers. “I held a lengthy grudge against Mac Tíre. Nessie’s only just met the two of you.”

  “An’ if ye ever did wonder who that Terran parent was who spawned the three o’ ye,” Nessie begins, stretching her long arms above her head, “I know the details.”

  I lean forward and Conall automatically grabs my shoulder so as to keep me from falling the ten feet from the hayloft.

  “You do? Who is he? Or she…what’s the Great Spirit look like?”

  Sejka’s words come back to me from a time long past. She’d said about the Ru-Yeva, “There is no way to tell. It is but a legend.”

  But it’s not.

  “Do you know, too, then, Flint?” I ask the teen incredulously.

  He winces. “I can’t remember yet.”

  “Didn’t expect him to. ‘Twas thousands of years ago…” Nessie says softly.

  The woman bites a fingernail and then stares at it as if expecting it to be long and jagged still. She pushes her waist-length hazel ponytail over a shoulder before glancing up at me.

  “I was – in my first life – Incan. Yacumama, they called me. It translates to ‘Mother of the Water’ in Quechua. In the mountains of Peru, I was brought to life by the Great Spirit.”

  “You remember your first incarnation, then?” Flint asks her in disbelief, turning his head sideways as he regards his ‘girlfriend’.

  I’m not sure what to call the two of them. Having been together for at least two centuries, they must’ve been married at some point. Does he have to propose each time they’re reborn? Does ‘till death do us part’ have the same meaning for immortals?

  “Aye,” she says solemnly. “I told ye of it nearly two decades ago, but can’t expect ye to remember everythin’ yet. Especially considering ye forgot about my existence entirely.”

  The room grows silent and everyone’s eyes are on Flint.

  Ace finally pipes up. “To be fair, he forgot about his own existence, too.” The goth Lycan chuckles. “We searched the Welsh countryside for weeks trying to find Nwyfre, and he was right there with us all along. Reincarnated into his own descendant’s body.”

  Nessie is unable to stifle a giggle. “Anyway,” the water spirit continues hurriedly, “thousands of years ago, when I first opened me human eyes to the world, I beheld a being who called himself Pachacamac. Creator of the World.”

  “G-God?” Damian breathes. I hadn’t noticed him creep up and sit on a crate next to Flint.

  “Call ‘im what ye like.” Nessie shrugs. “Terra, Gaia, Mother Earth, the Great Spirit… Pachacamac is all of those things. He is the spirit of Earth itself, and it is because of Pachacamac that we spirits are who we are.”

  “Damn,” Conall breathes beside me, squeezing my hand in his.

  “Yeah,” I agree, unable to say anything more. I’m not sure what I expected, but still, it’s incredible.

  Nessie clears her throat to calm the hisses of the Lycans and Yeva’si who’d just heard her revelation.

  “There’s more,” she says flatly, “and some o’ ye might not like this.” The Loch Ness Monster pauses for effect. “I knew Patercius in his first life.”

  All is silent save for the whistle of a breeze beyond the barn doors. Conall and I exchange a bewildered glance.

  “His name was Inti, and he was a Sun God. I knew it as soon as he began to use his light energy during the battle. He’d been hiding it from us all these years. And,” she continues, lowering her voice for effect, “I’m certain he no longer remembers who he really is. He believes himself to be a saviour, a priest – a knight sent by the heavens to rid the world of demons...”

  “When really, he’s an Earth spirit,” I finish.

  “I intend to return to Peru and seek the aid of the Apukuna. I am holding on to the hope that they can help us with Inti.”

  “The appa-what-a?” Damian blurts.

  “Apukuna. The South American equivalent of the Spiritborne. There are three of us: Yacumama, Inti, and Uturunku, amongst other spiritual leaders. Plus, I must return to my people: the Serpientes. River serpents of the Amazon.”

  Nessie – Yacumama – smiles widely, slapping Flint on the shoulder.

  “Nwyfre, it’s time ye come to meet me brethren. Whaddaya say? In a few days’ time, we could be right at home in the mountains of Peru.”

  “I’m in,” the teen acquiesces with a grin.

  Nessie frowns in thought. “Not that I much like saying goodbye to Loch Ness, but there’s the Amazon river to come home to, no less. An’ it’s like ye said, anyhow: I kept on coming back to the same old loch. Now it’s time to face me past. Nunca se te olviden tus raíces, lad. Ye never forget yer roots.”

  I lie awake for what feels like hours. Conall’s arm is draped across my thin frame. I attempt to shut out the soft snores of shapeshifters on the lower floor of the barn.

  Never forget your roots, I muse. And yet we all do. Each time we’re reborn, we have to remember all over again. But I will never forget Sejka, the woman who gave up her very spirit to ensure I lived on.

  My eyes flutter closed and my breathing slows. Fleeting visions flicker in my mind’s eye and I welcome them in, relishing the beauty of the great forests I’d so missed.

  I stood at the edge of the settlement, my skins packed with fresh blackberries and apples. My feet were bare and my soul even barer as I glanced at the forest, at the place where Koyah had departed.

  Someday I will be back for you, brother. But for now, I must endeavour to make contact with the rest of the Three.

  I’d projected my thoughts into the emptiness in an attempt to communicate with Mac Tíre or Nwyfre, but after moons of trying, I was unable to do so. Perhaps their current avatars were too young to remember, or perhaps they had closed their minds to me.

  There were clans in western Canada that my past life, Sitka, had spoken with on occasion. I resolved to locate them and warn them of the army that sought to eliminate them. I would be an ambassador for the tribes and clans. A Guardian until the last.

  I glanced up to see Xunnu approaching from the far side of the clearing, stepping around dugout houses as he made his way towards me to say his farewells.

  “Sejka,” he said softly, stepping forward and touching my face with a scarred hand.

  “I am sorry I brought this upon you,” I told him, indicating the deaths my presence had caused. “They were here for me—”

  “It’s not your fault,” the new chieftain insisted, glancing at the sky where a few Yeva’si soared overhead.

  “I am hated here, now. I will make things right.”

  “They should be thankful. You drove the enemies away and healed them.”

  I shook my head. “Their allegiance will not be won overnight. I will go and not return until they are ready to accept me for who I am. Let them forget about the Ru-Yeva for the time being. Let them live their lives. But you know what I must do. And what you must do…”

  I didn’t finish the sentence, but he nodded his understanding.
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  “I know, Sejka. We must relocate the tribes. It is not safe to stay here.”

  A tear trailed down my cheek. “Perhaps I will see you again.”

  “You must return, Sejka. They are your people. They will come around. I’ll work with them.”

  Xunnu reached around to secure his hair into a loose braid down his back. When the hair was pulled taut from his face, it made him look orderly and serious, very much like his father before him. I swallowed, nodding at my former lover.

  “I will return someday,” I promised, smiling weakly. “Good luck to you, Xunnu. You shall make a fine chieftain.”

  “And you a fine Ru-Yeva.”

  EPILOGUE

  Skye

  “Who wants to go flying?!”

  My eyes flash open and Conall groans beside me.

  “What time is it?” he demands. “Five in the morning?”

  “It’s seven!” Flint calls out casually. “Ness and I are going for a flight before we leave this afternoon.”

  A rustle ensues as the Lycans and Yeva’si leap from their perches on the hay bales and farm equipment.

  “Count me in,” I call back. “Lemme get dressed first.”

  “Same here,” Damian chimes in. A mumble is emitted from nearby – it must be Jen.

  Conall and I hastily pull on our jeans and sweatshirts and scramble down the ladder. Damian, Ace and Xera are already waiting beside Flint, chatting enthusiastically. Upon seeing us, Damian gives a friendly nod and then scans the dim barn for his girlfriend.

  “Jen? We haven’t got all day.”

  She mutters something unintelligible. “Yeah, we do. We could go anytime. Dammit, Damian. You know I’m not an early bird.”

  Aelshen approaches with a wide grin and claps me on the shoulder. “Ye know I want to accompany ye, if only to further yer training. Though part o’ me wonders if I’m better off stayin’ here with Matthews an’ MacLarty Senior to make sure they behave.”